War, Fire, and Death
by mageoftheage
Summary: The Olympians have been in power for too long. [a percy jackson and the olympians fanfiction] [first book in "the primordials' hypothesis" series] [set post-the sea of monsters - the last olympian]
1. WAR, FIRE, AND DEATH

**blurb**

 _ **AN AMNESIAC**_ wakes up inside a room, stripped of all memories and her identity. Thrust into the hands of a manic war goddess with a taste for only the finest in life, she quickly learns that she is to live out her life as a pawn of the immortals, but what awaits her outside the palace could be worse than any bloodthirsty maenad Enyo throws at her.

 _ **ALEX PARKER**_ used to be a leftover—of her mother, of various foster families, and of distant childhood friends. When Luke Castellan reappeared in her life a year ago, she suddenly became someone important: the Commander of Kronos's armies and the most powerful fire user in centuries. But after Luke poisons Thalia's tree, Alex starts doubting not only where Luke's true loyalties lie, but hers as well.

 _ **DIANE STONE**_ is worn to the bone, helpless, and hopeless. Her mother is the only thing she has left, and even that's being taken away from her by drug addiction. Of course, that's until said mother takes matters into her own hands and deposits her in a strange new world—a strange new world of gods, demigods, and monsters.

Their paths have no reason to intersect. But when Diane is given a vague prophecy at Camp Half-Blood, only one thing is clear—

 _ **THEIR FATES ARE INTERTWINED.**_

* * *

 **timeline**

 _after the sea of monsters ( june 2007 ) - the last olympian ( august 2009 )_

* * *

 **author's note**

 **I've tried letting go of this story. I really have, but I guess I was too attached to the characters to trash the story just like that.**

 **So my solution was to change the entire story lmao**

 **This is maybe the millionth time I've rewritten this book after deleting it, and after expending so much energy on it, I'm back!**

 **That aside, I hope you readers will enjoy (and suffer) as much as I do when I write this book! I'll be updating every Wednesday, so stick around—it's gonna be a loooooong ride.**

 **WAR, FIRE, AND DEATH is the first of The Primordials' Hypothesis trilogy, and the next two aren't going to be any shorter. I hope I'll be able to engage everyone's interest and make your time reading this worthwhile!**


	2. PART ONE

**_INELUCTABLE (adj.)_**  
 ** _not able to be avoided or changed_**

* * *

❝ _Poor Andromache! Why does your heart sorrow so much for me? No man is going to hurl me to Hades, unless it is fated, but as for fate, I think no man has yet escaped it once it has taken its first form, neither brave man nor coward._ ❞

Hector ( _The Iliad_ , 6.486-489)

* * *

 **JUNE of 2007**  
the beginning of the fated end


	3. one: the clean slate

_**NO NAME**_

 ** _THE FIRST THING SHE WOKE UP TO WAS A WOMAN._** The world around her took a moment to shift itself in focus, and once she could clearly see, she found herself staring into sunken eyes. They were shadowed by the woman's brow, dark enough to look black, but there were odd sparks of red around the rim of the irises.

The woman didn't move. Instead, she purred softly, "What is your name, little warrior?"

She opened her mouth to respond, to say something–

But her mind was blank.

Her lips trembled, shaping unfamiliar sounds, and her tongue stumbled over strange frequencies. She tried to make a sound, but the only one her throat seemed to be capable to emitting was a hoarse scream.

"I see," the woman hummed. As she clutched at her throat, a weight moved off her bed. She hadn't even realized that she was in a bed. "I am Enyo, the goddess of war and destruction."

She stared at that peculiar face. Whatever had been said after "Enyo" was irrelevant—automatically, she tried the name in her mouth, imitating the way Enyo's lips had stretched over her teeth before becoming a round shape.

"Enyo," she croaked. "Enyo. Enyo?"

"Yes, that's me," Enyo murmured, eyes glinting in amusement.

A warm feeling in her chest swelled until she felt like she was going to burst. Her lips widened in a grin. She looked at Enyo, expecting the same warmth from the olive-toned woman.

But what she saw instead was the same detached amusement, her void-like eyes scanning her from head to toe and toe to head in a clinical fashion.

The warm feeling dissipated.

"Enyo?" she tried. She sounded odd, repeating the same word over and over again, but what else could she do?

"Ah," Enyo sighed, still fixated on her. "I really tried not to be curious... really, I did, but now I must know. Forgive me, sister."

She had the feeling that Enyo hadn't been talking to her. She watched as Enyo reached under the modest white skirt that flowed to her knees. She detached something hanging from her thigh and brought it out.

"Are you hungry, my little warrior?" crooned Enyo. The packet she held was clear, and there seemed to be some sort of food squares inside. Even the sight made her stomach rumble. They looked _divine_ , for lack of a better word.

Enyo opened the packet and handed it to her.

She grabbed at it immediately in an urge to satisfy the hunger she hadn't even known existed. As she stuffed the food into her mouth, her tastebuds seemed to erupt, and saliva swirled around the soft chunks. The monster in her stomach came alive, growling and clawing for more. She gulped down the semi-solid squares and stuffed the next batch into her mouth.

She hummed happily, wiping crumbs from the corners of her mouth and licking them off her fingers. "What do they taste like?" Enyo inquired. She looked up with a blank stare.

Enyo's jaw clenched even as she smiled. Her chewing stalled momentarily. "Sweet? Sour? Bitter? Salty? Spicy? What? Does it remind you of anything?"

She rolled the mushed food around in her mouth. It was, in fact, all look and no taste, not even a smell.

"Ah, I see. It does not taste like anything, then?"

She jolted. She'd said something? She hadn't, but Enyo's reaction told her otherwise.

"It's called ambrosia."

She paused again. "Am- brow-sha?"

Enyo's lip curled. "Yes."

She continued eating in relative silence after that. When she finished the packet, she could still feel the monster in her stomach roiling. "Ambrosia?" Enyo blinked, as if almost taken aback, then produced another packet. She smiled and tore open the packet, trying to ignore the feeling that Enyo's scrutiny had intensified.

She finished the second, and then a third. With every packet she finished, the more Enyo seemed on edge.

The thought made her frown.

Halfway through the fourth packet, she felt a scorching sensation in her stomach as she swallowed the food. She brushed it off and continued chewing.

The next mouthful she downed scalded her throat. She choked, but after a few coughs, the food went down. It left a searing trail, from the back of her tongue, even until her chest. The sensation festered and bloomed, clogging the space in her chest that was meant for the air she breathed.

Dropping the packet, she made a dry retching sound. Her hands flew to her chest as she tried to gulp in the cooler air. Everywhere the ambrosia had touched screamed, as if every cell longed to rip itself from her body. The heat creeped outwards, and it whittled away at her resistance. Her arms and legs turned soft, her midsection curled in on itself. Her head thudded against the concrete wall as her body slumped over.

The smallest of movements became tedious. In her attempt to prop herself back up, she willed her right arm to move. Slowly, she bent it at the elbow, only to have it flop back after moving an inch. She grit her teeth.

"Enyo," she cried out, however soft it was, calling for the woman.

The white fabric she wore settled softly against her frame as she moved, making each action seem even more effortless. Enyo stooped down and picked up the fallen packet.

The moment it came into her line of sight, she gave a distressed whimper. She shook her head, though it strained her neck.

"How much more can you take?" Enyo said. Her eyes and her voice were far, far away from the small gray room they were in.

She could hear a storm roaring in her ears, a storm of quickening beats and pulses. "No," she sobbed. The roof of her mouth dried from where her tongue peeled off. "No." Saying what she said set the inside of her mouth ablaze. "No." Where did she hear that from?

Enyo dug a tanned hand inside the packet and delicately brought out a soft square with her thumb and forefinger. "We'll see."

"No. N–"

Her jaw was forced open, and the ambrosia was placed on her tongue. She screamed as it began to burrow its little knives into everything it came into contact with.

As one iron grip held her jaw closed, another pressed down on her throat and rubbed the bob of it up and down. Gagging, she convulsively swallowed the ambrosia.

Tears sprang to her eyes. The breath that left her was brittle and dry, rattling against the walls of her esophagus. But she didn't have time to get used to the new pulses of agony before another square was forced down her throat.

This time, she tried pushing it away from the back of her throat, but Enyo's fingers pressed past the defense of her tongue and pushed down her throat. She choked, the fiery contents of her stomach springing up before Enyo clamped her mouth shut again. She swallowed back the bile and stared at the ceiling, which was flickering from gray to black.

Her skin felt like it was curling back from her bones of sand, her muscles fighting against each other for space her body shrank into itself, taking her life with it. She rasped a ghost of a scream as her head suddenly felt too full and small for everything inside. Struck with the sudden fear that her eyeballs would fall out, she squeezed her eyes shut, but even her eyelids felt too thin to contain the pressure from within the eye sockets.

Another square made its way down, and her vision completely shut down. There was a high-pitched noise drilling into her eardrums, then into her brain. The rough fabric of the bed beneath her disappeared, leaving her only with her body. Her mind was overloading, jumping left and right at sensation after sensation as molten spikes dug into her skin then rose from it.

The surface of her being was being scraped off, layer by layer while her insides tore themselves apart.

Was she screaming? Was she fighting back? Was she even alive at this point?

Chaos reigned her consciousness in a void of darkness and agony.

She was surrounded by only the black against her eyelids, explosions of color, and even darker black.

In a never-ending spiral of an abyss, she spun farther and farther and further and further until the darkest of the darkest of blacks enveloped her, bringing with it the paradise of oblivion.

* * *

 **author's note**

 **I surprised myself with this chapter. I didn't know I could be so sadistic. Oops. If this chapter doesn't tell you how gritty this book might get...**

 **Well.**


	4. two: the first traitor

_**ALEX PARKER**_

 _ **AS THE COMMANDER OF KRONOS'S ARMY,**_ Alex made it a point to not get unnerved by anything. You couldn't command respect from beings that wanted to devour you for breakfast if you were capable of being caught off guard.

But this dude... Alabaster Torrington gave her the heebie-jeebies.

They were walking on the docks of a port in the southern tip of New Jersey, Alex keeping an eye put for the gruesome bow of the _Princess Andromeda._ The mission was going perfectly so far—she'd slipped into Camp Half-Blood, cleanly snatched Alabaster from under the noses of half a hundred demigods, Chiron, and Dionysus, and escaped their subsequent pursuers. And now that she'd tracked the damn boat after days of running, she couldn't think of anything that could go wrong.

Except for the fact that she hadn't accounted for the security checkpoints at the dock.

"Your papers, please," said the security guard at the berth, and Alex had the sudden urge to slap him and run away. But orders from Luke were absolute; they couldn't cause a scene. The Olympians had eyes and ears everywhere, and Pontus's guarantee of their safety on the seas could only get them so far.

She flashed the guard the goofiest smile she could manage. "We're with our parents. They went ahead while we were mucking around."

The guard raised an eyebrow. "Sure. They went ahead on an invisible ship. This dock's closed and empty, miss. What're you really here for?"

Alex swore under her breath. She'd forgotten. The damn ship was invisible to mortals, courtesy of the Mist. The dock was closed, yes, but not empty.

Her hand inched towards the quiver slung on her hip. Luke's orders were useless if they couldn't get on the ship.

Just as she was about to grab her bow, Alabaster stepped forward, rolling his eyes. "Like she said, we're here for the _Princess Andromeda_ cruise. I don't know if you need to get your eyes checked, old man, but the ship's right there."

He pointed at the cruise, and Alex watched in morbid fascination as the guard's pupils dilated, focusing on the ship that suddenly appeared in his line of sight. "I don't– It wasn't there earlier-"

"You don't remember?" Alabaster prompted. He took a step closer to the guard. "You've been here the entire afternoon. You're exhausted after letting in a crowd of people for the _Princess Andromeda._ We're stragglers, and you've been holding the dock open for us."

The guard continued to stare at the cruise, unaware of how his filmy eyes were glazing over. "Yes. Yes, of course." He shook his head. "But... papers."

Alabaster huffed. "You're kind of persistent, aren't you? Well, here's the deal: we just gave them to you. All the details are complete. Everything you're looking for, everything you want to see. All there."

"Yes," the guard intoned. "Your papers are complete. I'll let you through, then." He stepped aside.

Alex and Alabaster moved to walk past him. They were almost halfway to the ship when Alabaster paused as if he had forgotten something.

"What is it?" Alex said. He ignored her and turned around to look at the still-dazed guard.

"One more thing," he said. He snapped his fingers, his eyes blazing like Greek fire. "You'll forget about all this, then you'll come back to normal."

Satisfied with his handy work, he turned on his heel and continued ahead. Realizing that she was behind by a few paces, Alex strode to his side until she matched him.

"Any chance you'll teach me your psychic abilities?" she laughed.

He gave her an unimpressed look. "It's not 'psychic.' I just manipulated the Mist."

 _Like manipulating the Mist is a walk in the park_ , Alex inwardly scoffed.

But she supposed it was, for him.

They stopped before the edge of the wooden dock, waiting for the crew to spot them and lower the passageway.

The silence between them nagged at Alex's mind. During the few days that they'd travelled together, their conversations—if she could even call them that—had been mostly one-sided on her part. She'd tried everything, from her usual cajoling to giving him a taste of his own medicine. The second one hadn't really succeeded. She'd lasted for a good two hours before she felt the urge to blab about something, anything. In the end, she'd gotten the same results: short and dispassionate replies.

At this point, she wasn't going to be surprised if Alabaster announced himself as an alien, what with his powers and behavior. Being in his presence was like leaning against a hibernating bear: no matter what you did, it probably wouldn't respond, but if it did– Oh, it _did._ Terrifyingly so.

"So, aside from your psychic stuff, what else can you do? You let me do all the dirty work when we were running," Alex said.

"I told you, it's not psychic. And that's another thing I told you. I can do magic."

"Okay, fine." Alex crossed her arms and pouted. "So I'll just assume you have a wooden stick in your pocket that you wave around when shit gets real. Very Harry Potter-esque. That's cool. Do you yell Latin mumbo-jumbo, too?"

"If I were you, Alex Parker, I would stop talking," Alabaster grit out.

"Ooh, full name. Scary. I can't blame you though. I'd wanna be me, too." Alex grinned.

"Magic," Alabaster cut in, "is about _intent_. For example."

He pointed at her, and it took willpower for Alex not to flinch. "I really want you to shut up, so you will. _Incantare–_ "

"That's funny! My fire is about intent, too. Hypothetically, if I turn your tongue to a nicely fried fillet, I could." Alex whistled and shoved her hands into her pockets. They had started to fidget. "But luckily, that's just an example, an imaginary and completely circumstantial scenario. It would be dangerous if it actually came down to that, yes?"

He glared at her with full force, but he lowered his hand. Then, reluctantly, he said, "Obviously."

Alex didn't make any more attempts at conversation after that. As she watched the passageway of the _Andromeda_ make contact with the dock, she redirected her brain away from thoughts of _Alabaster Torrington is a dangerous motherfucker, even I'm not safe_ to picturing his scowling face wrapped under piles of Hogwarts scarves. _What house would he be?_ she wondered. She envisioned the Sorting Hat yakking away on top of his head, and she let a big smile cross her face. Even as monsters started lining the entrance to welcome them, Alex did nothing to filter her thoughts.

She could feel Alabaster shrinking behind her at the sight of Kronos's army. They walked across the passageway and into the entrance, and the further they went, the more Alex felt the panic emanating from Alabaster.

Behind them, the monsters crowded around them as the passageway began to lift back to the cruise's side. They were an ugly-as-hell crowd, ranging from the somewhat passable hybrids of gods knew what animals to full-on a hundred percent ugly-as-hell creatures of malevolence and death and yada yada.

The push of bodies carried them to the deck of the ship. When Alex caught a glimpse of Alabaster's face by chance, a sharp laugh bubbled out from her chest. He was shuddering away from any physical contact, the poor kid. He attempted another glare, but given the lack of blood in his face, Alex could safely say that the last one had been way more effective.

"Are you scared, Alabaster?" she said. She wondered if her smile looked genuine or terrifying to him. "You're playing with the big boys now."

The doors opened before them, revealing a row of pristine benches on warm brown wooden planks. The sunlight was strong here, and the sea breeze wafted through the deck and ruffled their hair. The waves of the sea were a constant companion, their rhythmic rise and fall lulling minds into calm.

Alex breathed in, tilting her face towards the sun for strength. A giddy surge hit her despite the situation before her.

They were about to meet the real monster.

The monsters marched them up to the bow, upon which a lone deck chair was perched. Lounging on the chair was a blonde man, dressed fashionably in a well-fitted polo and khakis as if he were on vacation. His eyes were shielded by blue aviator shades, and on his face was an amiable smile.

"Great to see you guys," Luke Castellan said. He rose from his seat in one smooth motion and approached them.

Up close, Alex noted that his scar looked uglier and more prominent than ever. From the way it bulged and seemed to cover more skin now, she hoped it didn't itch. (She hoped it _fucking itched._ )

Beside her, Alabaster seemed to redden and avert his eyes from Luke's figure.

 _Oh my_ , Alex idly thought, before matching Luke's friendly expression with one of her own. "Always a sight for sore eyes, Luke. Making me feel like trash, a rare occurrence."

Luke arched a teasing eyebrow at her. "What do you want, Alex?"

Alex gave a half-shrug. "Just wanna catch up with you in private."

Last year, when Luke had found her again, Alex remembered thinking that he was the first and only boy she'd ever found attractive. He had that sneaky smirk and a svelte athlete's physique, which contrasted with his kind and bright blue eyes, and both girls and boys fell for him left and right.

But now, as he took his sunglasses off in the privacy of his suite, Alex wondered if those people would still have fallen for him if they saw him in this state. His eyes were bloodshot, the skin under them so severely purpled and swollen.

It was clear that his sunglasses hadn't been worn just for protection against the sun.

"Why in the name of Hades's black spandex briefs do you look like trash? I thought that was my job, not yours," Alex said.

Luke lowered himself onto the white leather couch that dominated his living room. A few meters behind the couch, Alabaster eyed the seat, obviously wanting to sit down but too awkward to.

"Why do you think?" Luke retorted, head dropping back with a drawn-out groan. He sounded like a creaking piece of machinery that was finally letting out smoke after decades of knowing nothing but rust, abandonment, and disuse.

"Well, if it's the reason I'm thinking of, it's also why I keep telling you to give me this huge-ass room since you're not going to be sleeping in it anyway."

"If I'm going to lose sleep to Lord Kronos, I might as well do it in style." Alex gave him a rude gesture. "I also have the added benefit of pissing you off." She repeated it with her other hand.

"Now, Alabaster–"

Alabaster perked up. "Yes?"

"Where are you?" Luke craned his neck around to look for him before deciding it was too much effort. "Can you stand somewhere I can see you?"

When Alabaster had moved around the couch, notably keeping a distance away from Alex, Luke asked, "How are you? I haven't seen you in a year."

Hecate's strongest looked like he was ready to turn into mush at those words. A very interesting red crawled from his freckled cheeks to his ears. "I-I'm fine. Can't believe you remember."

While Alex tried not to laugh at the way his voice had cracked in his flustered state, Luke offered a crooked smile. "I think I'd remember someone who could dye everyone's hair neon colors with a few choice Latin words."

She gasped in triumph. "So you _do_ say Latin mumbo-jumbo!"

She went ignored. "Tell me about the mission. What happened?"

"Well, I walked into Camp, went into the cabin, woke his snoring face up, and told him to pack him things. But just my luck, one of the co-counselors wakes up and goes, 'Witch boy, I thought you were done with detaching the Aphrodites' lips from their faces,' or something like that."

"She panicked and dragged me out of the Hermes Cabin. She stepped on Travis Stoll's face in the process," Alabaster helpfully added.

"Hey! Not my fault you were totally useless when that happened! My arms had a whole day's workout dragging your ass out of Camp." Alex cleared her throat at Luke's inquisitive stare. "Alright, so we got out and got here. We got chased on the way, though, by those two brothers."

"The Stolls," Alabaster muttered with disdain.

"Yeah. Those bastards were hard to evade."

"They're fast, aren't they?" Luke wistfully mumbled.

Alex blinked. "Yeah," she said slowly, watching Luke's face change from attentive to downcast. "I had to flash bomb them three or four times over the course of a night."

"They were able to pursue the both of you for a _night_?"

"I was woken up from my sleep, which is when I recharge my energy reserves. I couldn't use magic to its full extent, not without depleting from my own life force," Alabaster explained.

"That's not my fault, dude. Aren't Hecate kids supposed to be stronger at night?"

"I had to adjust to the schedule Camp gave all of us, okay?" he grumbled. "I haven't had the privilege of setting my own sleeping cycle to my liking for years."

"Alright, narcoleptic. Then that's it for the mission report, sir."

Luke stared at them with his exhausted eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. "Please do try to get along."

Alex cackled. "Uh huh." Alabaster shuffled from one foot to another, frowning in what was clearly discomfort. "So you've introduced him to the army, announced a generic rundown of what he's expected to do, and you've heard what happened during the mission. Are we done here?"

"Why are you in such a hurry?"

"Like I said, I want to catch up with you in private."

"So you want Alabaster to leave?"

"No offense, but full offense, yes."

"You'll be disappointed, then." Luke leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Whatever you have to say, he can hear it, too."

Alex's eyes widened, and she scowled. "I want to talk to you. _Alone._ For our two pairs of ears only, Castellan."

Luke gave her a quelling look. "We're three demigods on this boat, Alex. Three demigods out of hundreds of monsters." He gesticulated at them. "We can't work together if we don't build trust among ourselves."

At that sentence, the blood in her veins seemed to roil in protest. Heat welled up from within her, rushing up her neck, but she pushed down the flames that threatened to burst out of her skin. No matter how the pressure felt like an anvil on her, she pushed it down.

And she laughed.

"Trust?" She laughed, then flashed her teeth in a bare approximation of a smile. "Okay, let's talk about trust. Clearly, you didn't have enough in me to tell me the truth about what you did to Thalia's tree."

Luke seemed confused. "I did."

"You're really Hermes's son, aren't you?" she sneered, watching in satisfaction as the cool detachment faded away, only to be replaced by an ugly rage.

"Don't you dare speak his name," he lowly said.

Alex spat at him. "I can say his name whenever and wherever I like, Luke Castellan. Now, tell me honestly, do you even have the right to parade Thalia's face and name and sacrifice in front of me after the massive blasphemy against her, _and me,_ that you committed?! You use her to get me to do stuff, to get me to join the fucking army, like we're not anything more than a shovel and a wheelbarrow to use for you to mow your lawn. Well, the jig's up, Castellan. If you're just gonna use us as pawns and not treat us as _family_ , I'm fucking leaving. And you can't stop me."

"You can't do that."

"Really?!" Sparks flew from Alex's clenched fists as they started to glow red-hot. "No one told me that. Just like you didn't tell me that what you used to poison Thalia's tree was actually fucking lethal."

The defensive façade that Luke had put up peeled away slowly. Now that the truth was out, his eyes hardened, and his mouth set itself into a straight line. To any outsider, he would've looked like he was talking to a stranger.

"How did you find out." The question was flat, resigned.

"You didn't wonder why Alabaster was so fucking tired he couldn't use his magic, why everyone in that camp was so fucking tired they barely woke up to an intruder? Thalia's tree sustains the camp borders. Everyone was busy taking patrols defending the camp borders because they were fading. They caught a break only when Percy Jackson and Clarisse la Rue came back parading the Golden Fleece. It doesn't take much to put two and two together." Alex paused to take a deep breath. "So much for dosing Thalia's tree with a 'non-fatal' poison as a 'ruse.'"

"The only reason Jackson and Clarisse were able to take the Fleece was because _I_ let them," Luke snapped. "The plan was to let the Fleece revive Thalia–"

"Which you didn't tell me, either!" Alex screamed. "As far as I knew, the Fleece was to bring Kronos back, not Thalia. And knowing you, Luke, reviving Thalia was your failsafe, a way out in case you failed him. The fact that you couldn't trust me, one of your oldest friends, with telling me even the basics of the plan says a lot about where your loyalties really lie."

There was stunned silence. For the briefest moment, a shudder rippled across Luke's body. "Alex, don't go there."

Alex saw red.

The cry that left her didn't sound entirely human. The world around her burst into tongues of fire as she charged towards Luke.

" _Incantare: Bellator Carcer._ "

There were few things in this world that Alex took as gospel truth. One of them was that no matter what anyone said, neither Zeus nor Kronos were the supreme gods of this forsaken planet—Janet Jackson was. Another was that McDonald's could go suck off Burger King. Both of them were just as true as the fact that fire in her hands was an unstoppable, immortal, ravenous beast of destruction that crushed everything into ash.

So when Alabaster's spell settled on her, encasing her in what felt like lead, she watched in horror as her flames stopped dancing and and froze mid-air as if it was ice. It would've been a beautiful sculpture, with its graceful arcs and unbridled colors.

Alex's world faltered to a stop and fell off its axis.

But the rest of the world continued to spin.

Through the translucent orange curtain, she watched as Luke, merely a few feet away from certain death, let out a relieved sigh. "How did you–"

" _Warrior's Prison._ It's used to bind stronger and more powerful things, then to literally bring them to their knees," Alabaster's strained voice explained. As if on cue, Alex lost all sensation in her thighs and fell to her knees with a painful thud.

Luke jumped up from his seat in surprise and scuttled away from her. "Alright. Alright. Thanks. You just saved me and the entirety of this ship from certain destruction. Welcome to the rebellion."

"Thank you."

"Now, could you, by any chance, put her to sleep?"

Alex remembered Luke's sleep-deprived eyes and lethargic slump. _"If I'm going to lose sleep to Lord Kronos–"_ Realizing his intent, cold fear clawed up her stomach and into her chest, wrapping its merciless talons around her heart.

 _NO! NO!_ Alex internally screamed with all her might. But she couldn't move even a millimeter; her face remained contorted in the feral snarl from minutes ago.

"... I think I can. I'm gonna need an energy drink after that, though."

"No problem. We have freaking restaurants here, man. It's a _cruise._ "

And with that, Alabaster's tragically unfashionable sneakers came plodding into her line of sight. She tried to move her arms, or even her head, but to no avail.

His hand hovered above her. " _Incantare: Obruo per Somnum._ "

Against her will, fatigue began seeping into her muscles and bones, coaxing them to yield and rest. Her mind slowly quieted to tune into the pleasant crash of the waves against the sides of the _Princess Andromeda,_ and suddenly, she just wanted to close her eyes.

" _Incantare: Aufero Sarcina."_

Then and there, her wish was granted. Green shards of light shattered from her skin and disappeared as they fell to the floor, taking with them the frozen fire. Unable to muster anymore strength from her body, she fell backwards, and as soon as her back made contact with the floor, she was out like a light.

 **author's note**

 **hahahha what the heck why is this chapter so long**

 **luke and alex live to shitpost each other in the real world. alabaster is a smol who is ready to fight.**

 **that's it. that's their dynamic.**

 **see y'all next week !**


	5. three: the reluctant subject

_**DIANE STONE**_

 _ **AT TWO IN THE MORNING,**_ Diane was walking alone on the highway. Her only companion, the damp breeze, brushed against her cheeks, gently sending a drift of dead leaves her way.

She wished it were a bit colder. Even in the middle of the night, Ohio's oppressive summers burrowed underneath her clothes and settled as a sheen of sweat on her skin. It didn't help her journey, either—only an hour in, she was already wishing desperately for a bottle of water.

The temporary apartment her mother had found was still another hour or so away, but so was the rest of civilization. The nearest village was maybe half an hour's walk in the opposite direction she was going from the rest stop she worked at. It wasn't ideal, but no one would notice the small teenage girl scrubbing the windows of a store that was ways off the I-71 between Columbus and Cleveland. No one would have the mind to file a complaint against the owners.

And besides, she'd been the one practically begging for a job.

At least, this time, she had a place to sleep in to look forward to when she got back. It was much better than, say, having to curl up in rough concrete alleys or huddling in the corner of a room full of people that smelled of smoke and weed. Her mother was usually responsible for the latter.

Though lately, she'd been trying to find and hold onto whatever odd jobs she could find, even abstaining from her "nirvana" sessions.

It should've made Diane feel better. It didn't. Instead of feeling relief, the trepidation she walked home with every night tightened its hold on her until she couldn't breathe. Every time she walked through the front door to their unit, her brain would turn on itself like cancer cells, feeding her senses with the worst scenarios imaginable. _Death, coma–_ Those were the saner ones. _Rape, murder muggedarrestedtakenawayintofostercare–_

Only when she saw her mother's mouth hanging wide open in a snore with her own eyes and felt her normal pulse underneath her palms would she breathe again. And lately, it had been getting harder and harder to think of breathing as a compulsory human activity.

Diane didn't really want to think low of her mother, but her paranoia forced her to do so every time it broke the ceiling of what she thought was the limit of her imagination.

Perhaps, in another life, she gave nightmares to people as a spirit of some sort. She definitely had the creativity for it.

She let out a little snort at the thought and immediately froze. The sound seemed to carry through the wind.

Chest squeezing, she whipped her head around to see if there was someone or something lurking around. The dim glow of the streetlights, suddenly so far from where she stood, promised a sanctuary. She picked up her pace, shoving her hands into her pockets.

God... she really wished she didn't have to do this. The walk home every night was going to give her premature grey hairs. For all the horror stories about hitchhikers on highways turning out to be serial killers, she felt that the reverse was going to happen to her. It would be too easy. She was a small runt of a girl walking alone with only streetlights and the stars above as her witnesses. No one would miss her. Her mother wouldn't be able to do anything.

Her feet quickened and took the longest strides they could. The ground against her worn-out soles and the rustle of the trees and the croon of the nightlife snuck their way up a steep crescendo. _God, why are my legs so short?_ _Why am I so short?_

The road never seemed to end, and neither did the greenery around her. No matter how far she walked, there was always more ground to cover: another turn, crook, or wend in the highway. New plains formed in the horizon, and after a period of time, she'd look to her side again and see that the once-distant plots of land had come into full view. The plains varied—through the veil of darkness, she'd manage to catch a glimpse of rows of bare soil between the waist-high crops that the farmers walked on; in others, the crops covered fields as far as the eye could see.

After a while, she peered down at her watch. She sighed, hoping her nerves would hold out a little longer. The smallest signs of civilization were already making themselves known in the distance. She could already see the faintest twinkle of city lights–

 _Ssshhhhrrrrr._

Goosebumps sprang up all over her nape until her wrists. Her feet faltered to a stop.

There was no way to describe the sensation that overcame her, though it was as familiar to Diane as the anxiety freezing her in place.

All her life, she'd never liked being around large crowds of people for a reason: their breathing, their pulse, and the bright thrum of _their life_ became her own, crowding her head with stimuli that didn't stem from her senses and constantly sending red-alert notices of where and _how_ they were. She could tell if a stranger she passed by on the street was on the verge of dying, and no one had ever managed to sneak up on her without having their general location pinpointed.

People called her a freak. Diane couldn't agree more, especially in that moment, as the being's presence hovered several hundred meters away from her, hidden safely in tall grasses.

She covered her mouth to stifle a sob or a scream, she didn't know, and turned in their direction. To her horror, two eyes gleamed through the grass blades as they moved forward. The yellow glow of the streetlight caught the figure, slowly unravelling a vague outline.

Diane didn't know what she was seeing. A reptilian pair of eyes glowed out of scaly sockets, which were just visible above the soil. A few centimeters above, two great horns parallel to each other formed perfect spirals, the smaller tip pointing towards her. In the dark of the night, many would've mistaken it as a strangely barbed plant buried into the ground.

She shook her head, sure that it was a hallucination, but she didn't dare close her eyes. The vision did not move an inch from its spot, watching her intently with its slit-like pupils.

Diane could feel the rhythm of its breathing pressing unforgivingly against her eardrums. She cringed at the invasion. Its pulse was different; where humans had intervals in their pulses, this one had a constant rush, like its lifeblood had no time to make a pit stop through what constituted as its heart—if it had one.

It wasn't even an animal. It was something much worse— _much older_ , her gut told her, and much more dangerous.

The beast held her gaze for several long moments, as if daring her to move. When she remained rooted to her spot, a low hiss echoed across the road, and its pupils dilated.

It began to rise, breaking out of the soil it had camouflaged itself in. As bits of crumbling earth rolled off its scales, the long body of a serpent revealed itself.

An average rattlesnake would have peed itself before becoming breakfast. The serpent's neck was as thick as Diane's thigh, and that was probably the smallest part of its body. It looked long enough to mummify her from head to toe, and the horns on top of its head looked big enough to gore her through the stomach. But the strangest thing about it was that it looked almost liquid. As it pulled itself from the soil, it collapsed onto the ground and pooled into what vaguely resembled a wave.

Before Diane could let her brain come up with explanations of why it did that, she turned on her heel and ran. Behind her, the goat-snake let out an angry hiss as it struggled to shimmy out of the soil. _You're not getting away!_ it seemed to scream. She whimpered in terror and pushed her legs to run faster.

She just had to get away from it for as long as she could. It wasn't the first time she'd encountered things like this: when she was seven, a hulking man with only a round, bloodshot eye in the middle of his forehead tried luring her into a dark alley using her mother's voice; when she was ten, a woman with serpents for legs followed her on the street for an entire hour; but no matter what the situation, when she was sure that she was about to die, the monsters fled, repulsed by being too close to her.

She wasn't a fighter. How could she be? She lived in fear of her own thoughts. It was only by chance and luck that she'd survived until now.

 _That might change soon,_ she grimly thought. Her breath was already beginning to become ragged and her legs had started to ache.

The city didn't seem any closer. But she pushed herself, and she continued running. She continued running until her throat jumped up to throw the contents of her gut out.

Swallowing down the urge to puke, Diane stumbled to a stop and staggered for the side of the road. Her legs went weak, and she fell hard on her butt.

She tilted her head up to catch her breath. _It's gone,_ she thought wildly. There was no rift in the silence of her sixth sense. _I'm alive._

At the thought, she suddenly got the urge to curl up and let herself have a good cry right then and there. This entire ordeal was too stressful. (Her life was too stressful.)

But she wanted to get home. She didn't want her exhaustion to catch up with her in the middle of the road.

So she gathered herself on shaky legs, stifled her tears, and resumed her trek.

When she got home, it was well past three—or at least, that was what she could read on the clock. Words and numbers had never been friendly to her. They stayed still for other people. Not for her.

The usual trepidation built up inside her as she turned the lock and opened the door. It quickly melted away, then it turned into confusion.

"Why are you awake?" Diane asked.  
"And... what are you doing–"

"We're going on a fucking road trip," Delilah Stone bit out. Diane had walked in on her stuffing clothes into a backpack. "Pack your own shit."

Diane frowned. "But... I have work."

Delilah let out a short, sharp laugh. "Work! I'll take care of your work, Diane. Now, get moving."

Diane did _not_ get moving. Fatigue bore down on her, and sleep was all she wanted. "Why?"

"Because I said so." Another bag was thrown at her chest. She didn't bother catching it.

"We need money," she pressed. "For the rent, your rehab, for food–"

"None of that's gonna matter if we're dead, you hear me?!"

There was a note of desperation and panic in her mother's voice. Fear struck Diane.

Her mother didn't panic.

"Mom, what did you do?" she asked lowly. "Because if has something to do with the drugs–"

"It has something to do with your existence," her mother replied impatiently. "What, you think I got into a bad debt with some loan shark? I go stupid for the pleasures of life, Diane, I know that, but not that stupid."

Diane slowly bent down to pick up the fallen bag from earlier. "The police?" she ventured.

"I'd prefer the police," her mother mumbled. She yanked the zipper of her backpack shut and glared at Diane expectantly.

She was stock still, frozen like a statue. What could be worse than the police? Her mom had already said it wasn't someone looking to make foul play against them... So who?

 _Or what,_ the little voice in her head chimed. The image of the strange serpent flashed in her mind, and she couldn't suppress the shudder that rippled through her.

Only a second later did she realize that her mother was staring at her in horror.

"You've seen them," she said. She dropped the bag and gripped Diane's shoulders. "You've seen them?! Why didn't you tell me?!"

Diane winced and shrugged off the vice-like grip. "You know about the..."

"The monsters. You should've told me."

"You were in no condition to be told," she said softly.

The look on her mother's face was heart-wrenching. Diane regretted even being born. Then her mother looked away, and her expression shut down. She buried her hands in her hair.

"He told me about this... Shit."

"My father?" Diane cut in. "What about him?"

Her mother sighed heavily. "I can't tell you. He said it would make it worse. Whatever kind of logic that is. Please don't ask any more questions."

Diane felt her face fall. "I guess I'll start packing then." She made way through their cramped living space to get her meager supply of clothes.

A thought occurred to her. Surely her mother would allow this question...?

"Where are we going?" Diane asked.

Her mother smiled grimly.

"Long Island Sound. New York."

 **author's note**

 **writer's block is real, and i'm a flop. yay**

 **diane is such a fragile character, to be honest. like, I love her with my entire being, but she's hella hard to write.**


	6. four: a lesson learned

_**NO NAME**_

 _ **EVEN IN THE BLANK DARKNESS OF HER SLEEP,**_ she knew she didn't want to wake up. As soon as her senses opened up to the world again, her body struggled to shut down.

Everything hurt. Everything hurt.

She wanted to go back to sleep. Sleep was painless, sleep was bliss. And it was slipping away from her like wind.

She tried to grasp them and wrap herself in its comforting oblivion. But as she just began to sink back into it–

A sharp sensation blast all over her face, followed by the realization that she was drenched. Her eyes shot open, her jaw trembling at the chill settling on her skin.

"Good, you're alive," Enyo said indifferently.

She blinked away the sudden red that fogged her vision. It threatened to break out, to make her do dangerous things.

 _Like hit Enyo in the face._

"Get up, girl. We have things to do." Her jaw clenched at Enyo's words, all of them meaningless strings of sounds and syllables.

When she didn't move, Enyo's hand reached down to haul her up. The moment it came in contact with her contact, a feral sound escaped her, and she smacked Enyo's arm away with strength she didn't know she had.

The room was quiet for a moment before that very same hand struck back with a vengeance. Enyo's hand might have been made of flesh, but what she felt against her cheek was the harsh brand of hot iron. Blood burst from the inside of her cheek, and something came loose. As she sputtered on the fresh blood flooding her mouth, three white specks, coated in red, fell onto the floor. Her gums felt numb, but the surface of her cheek screamed in scalding agony. Her jaw wasn't right either—she felt the area above the bone balloon like water was being pumped into her face.

She fell to the ground, gasping in pain and clutching her jaw. Endless streams of blood flowed from her mouth, and they created a puddle that smelled of copper on the floor.

"I said, get up."

She didn't understand. She didn't understand. She didn't know what to do.

A fist grabbed harshly at her hair. She screamed, the sound stretching on for minutes as she began to be dragged across the floor. She kicked and clawed futilely, digging her nails into the Enyo's skin.

Except her nails felt like they were going to shatter first. She ceased her efforts with a wheeze and tried not to think too much about the searing pain radiating throughout her scalp.

At some point, they exited the room, and the ground beneath her smoothened out from rough and spiky to squeaking cool and smooth. The gashes torn into her legs and back pushed close under the friction of the floor. She tried her best to stifle her whimpers, but it was to no avail. Everywhere _hurthurthurt_ , and she was regretting ever waking up both the first and second times.

The walls around her were blurring into an offensively white blur. Details on walls and furniture were all lost to her as they made their way through hallways and rooms.

When Enyo dropped her at long last, her vision was so clouded with tears she couldn't see past them. Underneath her were layers and layers of coarse grains. They dug into her skin, stuck to her as she shakily crawled away. Her hands reached up to wipe the blur from her eyes.

Her vision cleared, and the first thing she saw was the vast plane of sand they were on. The bland color stretched out as far as her eyes could see into the shadows of the room's edges. Beyond those, there was no telling what lurked under them. She couldn't even tell from where they had entered.

Legs trembling, she rose from the ground.

"Enyo," she shakily said.

 _Please spare me._

 _What comes next?_

Enyo's strong mouth curled into a smile. "Fight," she enunciated. "You will learn how to fight."

She didn't like the sound of the word. "Fight?" she squeaked.

"And kill." Enyo stepped closer to her. She stumbled back a step. "You will learn to kill for me."

Her breathing caught in her chest. Enyo sounded happy. Genuinely happy.

"Kill?"

She felt like she wanted to vomit at the word. _Kill._ But it held no meaning for her.

It definitely did, though, for Enyo. In a good way. Maybe then... if she could do that, Enyo would be satisfied. Enyo would stop.

So she swallowed her heart and let her eyes meet Enyo's for a second. Though the intensity of the woman's voids forced her gaze away after a second, she felt her appeasement.

"Good," Enyo murmured. "We are of the same ichor, after all."

There was a sudden movement behind Enyo, and she jumped, gasping in short breaths.

"Enyo?"

"Yes, my little warrior." Enyo smiled the scary smile at her. She wanted the genuine one back.

"Fight. _Kill._ "

A sudden ripple of air, and Enyo was gone. A screaming blur jumped out at her, and when she went horizontal, the world did too.

A breath stinking of _sweet_ and _bitter_ fanned down at her, and she squeaked. Hearing this, a hoarse laugh squeezed its way out of the creature's throat. The next thing she felt was something breaking through the skin of her shoulders. She screamed at the pain, wriggling under the creature's strong arms. But her efforts were to no avail-the nails drawing blood just made the wounds bigger.

Shaking, she blindly reached for her opponent's thighs and gave them a taste of their own medicine. She gripped with all her strength, all her might, then with a heaving grunt, she threw their entire body off.

At the creature's bloodcurdling howl, her sight sharpened past the sweat and dust and blood dripping down her forehead, the pain in her wounds dulling from a reverberating symphony into a background hum. She rose to her full height.

For the first time, she got a good glimpse of her adversary. Wild ebony hair frizzed around round, manic eyes that stared into her without any shred of intelligence. The creature was a woman, she realized with a strange sort of embarrassment, the thick pelt made up of black spots against yellow barely covering any skin, save for the lower half of her lean stomach and her hips. Her skin would have been a flawless olive expanse if not for the streaks of both fresh and dried blood smeared across her entire body. When she smiled, pearly white was coated in red, too.

The sight made her stomach roil with unease. There was no fear in the woman's face-just frenzied, unbridled glee and her thirst for more blood to layer over her clenched teeth.

"You're boring me," Enyo's voice snapped. Both she and the wild woman jumped, eyes flitting everywhere in an attempt to find the source.

"What are you doing?! _Go!_ _ **Kill!**_ "

Static rang in her ears, and suddenly, the only thing she could see was _redredredred-_

Sand shifted under her feet, and she was slamming the woman off her feet. As her shoulder crushed the woman's ribcage against the floor, a hand found her neck. But it didn't wrap itself around her throat-nails stabbed the side of her neck instead.

Fountains of blood burst. She pulled away with a wail and brought her elbow down into the woman's eye. The bone of her cheek made a cracking sound. She paused, a strange emotion washing over her.

That was a mistake. In a second, their positions flipped, and sand scattered into her face. Blinded, she yelped as she felt her arm twisted behind her. Above her, the woman screeched in delight as she pushed harder and harder-

Her shoulder popped, and she screamed into the sand at the fresh wave of agony. The woman's hands dug into the now-present gap between her joints and pulled with all her might. Skin began to tear. Red and black blotted out her vision.

She instinctively reached out with her other arm for something, for anything, and it found its way into the coarse frizz. She slammed her head down into the ground beside her, and the weight crushing her disappeared.

With one arm hanging limply at her side, she painstakingly dragged herself up and away from the woman. By the time she put a good distance between them, her opponent was gathering herself on her knees, movements sluggish and her remaining eye unable to focus. Still, the moment their gazes found one another, the feral in her face returned.

She clutched her deadened arm, bracing herself.

The woman ran at her. She became a blur.

She took a deep breath, dropping her cradled arm and braced the other back, her hand forming a fist ready to meet anywhere necessary.

Except that at the last second, the woman dropped onto all fours, lunging at her right leg, and using her momentum to swing her entire body weight while keeping a grip on her calf.

The world slipped out from under her, and there was a scream as her knee gave way to her calf snapping in the other direction. Next came her foot, slowly forced to detach from its place and face the ground beneath her.

This time, she could not stop the bile that climbed past her throat. All she could feel was pain and the haziness of her conscious.

She could hear the woman panting in exhaustion and delirium, anticipating the final blow. Her eyes slid close.

She just wanted to sleep again.

But her body wouldn't let her. As the woman drew closer again, blood roared in her ears, and her pain heightened to a nearly unbearable fire. She screamed, and she waited.

When the woman was close enough, a final burst of strength pulled her core up from the ground and pinned the woman to the ground. Supporting herself on one decent leg and another mangled one, though it sent electricity up her tailbone, she drew back her arm and brought her fist down into the woman's wild face.

She didn't give her time to react. She delivered blow after blow, watching as features turned into a mush of blood and crushed bone. The body under her writhed, but she kept punching like a machine.

Eventually, the woman went limp.

Only then did she give herself permission to fall over, too.

The body laying at her feet, she heaved and stared at the sky. It was a very nice color. It felt warm, too. Maybe she could fall asleep here.

Before that could happen, though, another face blotted out the sky. But even Enyo's face could not get her to move again.

"You killed her." There was the hint of delight that had tinged her voice earlier when she said the peculiar word (" _kill_ "), but there was also something wrong. Her eyebrows were furrowed, her lips were pursed.

"But look at you. Maybe you're not as strong as I wanted you to be."

She let her head fall to the side. She didn't want to think anymore.

When Enyo delivered the final blow to the side of her head, she thought that her sleep would finally be the blank paradise it had been earlier.

It was not. It was on fire, with flashes of white-hot and red.

 **author's note**

 **why do i torture my characters like this**

 **congratulations for making it through more than 1.5k words of excessive violence**

 **i'm a very un-sadistic person in real life, i assure you**

 **i also happen to be a chronic victim of writer's block. so see you guys next time? whenever that will be lmao**

 **(i also promise to give her a name soon. I'm tired of using so many pronouns.)**


	7. five: a seed planted

_**ALEX PARKER**_

 _ **IT WAS NEARLY NOON WHEN SHE GOT UP.**_ It might have been early for others, but she's always been an early riser, up as soon as the first ray of light began to stream through the clouds.

Today was an exception. Though literally speaking, she'd been asleep for over 20 hours, only a fifth of that time had actually been restful.

Alex slammed her toothbrush down onto the sink and forced herself to spit out the toothpaste. She tried to think of good things. _I love brushing my teeth. Bye-bye, bad breath._ Although at this point, she was more than willing to swallow the entire tube if it meant getting away from–

She yanked the grip of the tub open and watched warm water swirl into the bathtub. Heat soon lay a film of condensation on everything in the bathroom, especially the reflective surfaces.

Alex buried her face in her hands. Good, she didn't want to see how terrible she looked.

When the tub was finally filled to the brim, Alex realized she forgot to mix in the bath salts and swore. She grabbed the entire bottle of shower gel and squeezed hard.

"Please make bubbles, please make bubbles," she chanted. "Please let me do one thing right."

In the end, through excessive swishing of her hand in the water, followed by another bottle of shower gel, foam appeared on the surface, though not as thick as if she hadn't fucked up in the first place.

Alex sighed and toppled into the scalding water. She slouched lower and lower until the tip of her nose touched the water.

She stayed there like that, tracing with her eyes the veins of the sink's marble countertop and occasionally cupping a handful of water to dump over the top of her head. Whenever the water would verge on lukewarm, she'd send pulses of heat outwards, warming the bath all over again and extending her hideout.

Eventually, her stomach gave a violent grumble, forcing her to move. She gave herself a quick lather-and-rinse before draining the bath and toweling off.

Wrapping the towel around herself, she walked over to the vanity and heavily sat down. Lined up in front of her was an array of hair products.

If there was one thing she'd missed about the _Princess Andromeda_ , it was this collection.

She picked up the hairdryer and turned it on. Monotonously, her brain went through the usual stylings.

She usually loved doing her hair. Alex had always had good memories of it: girls who looked just like her welcoming her with open arms, big white smiles, and threading their fingers through the thick curls of her natural hair; girls arguing over which wax or serum or gel would be better; girls twisting her hair into braids, buns, ponytails– But now-

 _ **Why does no one care for you, Alex Parker? Perhaps it is because you care for no one, either. You leave them all behind. But you cannot leave me.**_

The hairdryer was slammed down with such force that the products at the edges fell off the vanity. The ones encased in glass shattered upon impact.

She bitterly turned away. Someone would clean it up later.

Kronos always ruined everything.

When she arrived in the cruise's restaurant, Luke was digging into a staggering tower of waffles. His personal bodyguard, a dracaena who went by the name of Queen Sess (edgy, she knew), looked like she was on the verge of digging into Luke's internal organs.

"Issss ssssir done with his breakfassst?" she hissed.

"No," Luke mumbled around his food for what had to be about the thousandth time, judging by the look on his face.

"You better hurry up, asshole, or she might eat you. And not in the kinky way," Alex announced, sliding into the chair across him. Queen Sess looked a lemon had been stuffed into her mouth. "I'm gonna have an Eggs Benedict, thanks."

The dracaena's snake features morphed from murderous to perplexed.

"Bring the order to the kitchen," Luke sighed. "I'm sure the chef there has nothing to do anyways."

Queen Sess looked murderous again. "I am not a ssssservant–"

"I also want some OJ."

Alex met Sess's reptilian gaze with her own.

"Or I can get the fire started myself."

Queen Sess broke gaze first, forked tongue furiously slithering between her green lips. "Underssssstod."

As soon as her tails were out of view, Luke leaned back in his chair and gave Alex a reproaching look. "You've got to stop using your powers to get your way."

Alex's jaw dropped. "What?! I just really wanted breakfast, okay?"

"They're not actually gonna respect you like this, Alex."

"Oh, and I guess this is the part where you pull the bullshit out of your ass."

"How do you think I got them to listen to me?"

"You stole the Master Bolt, duh. If I stole one of the most powerful weapons from under the noses of the 12 Olympians, too, I'd have people bowing down to me. But no!" Alex pouted. "I'm stuck doing shitty retrieval assignments and training. Fucking training."

"You'll be able to do something soon," Luke promised. "We can't just show our hand to the enemy. They don't know you exist yet."

"Well, technically, now they do," Alex said. Her mind flashed back to the Hermes Cabin's co-counselor's face when she'd stepped on it. She snickered.

"You're in a relatively good mood today," Luke observed.

"Aren't I always?" she replied flippantly. She snatched his coffee and took a whiff. Her nose scrunched up. "I never understood why you liked this watery shit. You've truly become a generic white adult."

"That's because you've never needed it, you heretic. Though I thought you might have needed it today."

 _Okay, we're playing the concerned brother-sister act now. I see._ "So this is your peace offering? You gotta work on your gift-giving skills, Castellan."

"Alex, I'm serious," he said sternly. "Believe it or not, I'm concerned about your... behavior."

"What?" She scoffed. "You really thought my ass was gonna be emo and mope around for days, Castellan? Sorry to disappoint."

"What did he do?" he pressed. "Alex, I know I'm a shit brother, but I also wanna help–"

"You wanna help? Then get off my case and apologize," Alex snapped. "If I was someone else, I would've been traumatized. And you don't get to say that it was my fault for threatening your life."

He smiled wryly. "Everyone gets traumatized, in one way or another, even if they don't like to admit it." Luke ran his hand through his hair. "And I should've been honest with you from the start. I'm sorry."

Alex let the words sink in.

"I was just–" Luke ran his hand through his hair again. "I've just been worried lately. Even if she's alive again, I'm not even sure–" He swallowed, cutting himself off.

 _You're not even sure if she'd be on our side,_ Alex finished for him silently.

"I've known you since I was six or seven, Castellan." She managed a smirk. "Even with the huge time gap in between me leaving and you recruiting me, there's always been people following you and ready to kill and die for you."

He tilted his head.

"What I mean is, you dumbass, is that there's hope for our sorry asses. And also, I haven't forgotten that disgusting crush you had on Thals."

Luke colored. "That was a long time ago, okay?"

Alex snorted. "And you're telling me you've never–"

"Alex Parker, don't dare finish that sentence."

"I won't. Food is here!" she chirped.

She'd smelled it before she'd seen it. Apparently, Queen Sess was stubborn to the end and refused to deliver the dish herself. Behind her trailed a mortal in a trance.

The sight of him wiped whatever pleasant expression they had off their faces. Overcome with sickening guilt, Alex let her gaze flee to the tablecloth.

"Eggs Benedict and an orange juice," intoned the mortal. Alex didn't dare look up even as the tray was set down before her.

"Thanks," she mumbled, not that he would've registered it. Robotically, the mortal straightened up and walked out of the room.

 _There's no victory without a little dirty work._ Her jaw clenched. _No glory without gore._

She suddenly wasn't that hungry.

But under Queen Sess's gaze, she shoved down her screaming conscience and picked up her utensils to eat.

After all, as the Commander of Kronos's armies, she couldn't get unnerved. Not even by the fact that they were hypnotizing mortals with the Mist to serve as the _Princess Andromeda_ 's crew.

She sliced into the eggs and the English muffin. She stuck her fork and lifted the portion into her mouth.

They tasted superb. Too bad it was made by a brainwashed chef.

That alone should've ruined the taste for her, but they didn't.

So she kept eating and eating.

Once they were finished and their plates were cleared, they stood up and began the walk back to their rooms with Queen Sess keeping a respectful distance behind them.

"Where's Alabaster?" Luke asked.

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Fuck if I know. He's probably sleeping or something. He's nocturnal, right?"

"His room number's 1018. Wake him up and tell him to get showered, get dressed, put on armor, all that shit."

Dread formed a ball in Alex's stomach. "Are we fucking doing what I think we're fucking doing?"

Luke smiled a fake-sheepish smile. He was probably cackling like the devil inside. "Yes, dear."

She stopped and slung her arm at his shoulder.

"OW! We're gonna get fat if we don't train, alright?! Do you know how addicting the food and alcohol here is?" Luke groaned, his head falling back. "I want another bottle of vodka."

"You're a shitty person, you know that?" Alex growled. "I literally said a while ago that I was sick of training."

Luke opened his eyes, contemplating her. "You still need to train on your hand-to-hand. And besides, we need to see how good Alabaster is."

 _Oh, shit._ Alex sighed. "Fine. I'll play errand girl."

They parted ways at the elevator (Luke's room was on the 12th floor, which was the top floor, because he was a posh boy). As she strode down the corridor, the familiar sensation of high-strung anticipation slowly wound itself up.

 _I'll have a fit if he's better than me. He can't be. Is it even possible to win in hand-to-hand combat against a magic user? Luke's bad enough with his Hermes agility and craftiness._

She arrived at his door and ended up knocking a hundred times because aside from being a narcoleptic, he apparently also slept like the dead. "ALABASTER TORRINGTON, GODSDAMMIT! OPEN THE FUCKIN' DOOR!" she screamed.

After a few hundred more tries and several more choice words, the door swung open to reveal a severely sleep-deprived face. "Please go away," Alabaster slurred, swaying on his feet to close the door again.

"Oh hell no." Alex stuck her foot through the door. "Luke says to get your ass moving. Take a shower and put on armor."

Alabaster seemed considerably more awake at the mention of Luke. She wondered how far the power of Luke went with Alabaster. "Wait, what? What're we doing?"

"We're gonna train. So unless you want to be severely maimed by yours truly, get your shit together and haul ass to the gym in an hour. It's on the third floor."

"Uh. Okay. It's going to be the other way around."

Alex, who was just turning around to leave, looked back at him. "What?"

In that moment, Alabaster looked like a feline ready to pounce. His disconcertingly bright green eyes seemed to glow as he said, " _You_ might get maimed by _me,_ Alex Parker."

She narrowed her eyes then smiled. "We'll see about that, Torrington."

She slammed the door shut for him and made for the elevator.

 **author's note**

 **more of a filler chapter to be honest. an informative filler chapter.**

 **so here we get to know alex better and her history and relationship with luke and his runaway family! luke and alex are doing terrible things for the cause they believe in.**

 **the only person missing now is annabeth wOOWowwoow**

 **and there's lots of rivalry between her and alabaster, but i swear (on the Styx) that they ain't gonna get it on. they just don't get along, simple as that.**

 **even if the chapter was mostly conversation and personality dynamics, i really liked writing the inside workings of Kronos's army. i mean, they're on a fricking cruise ship, dude, there's going to be lots of shenanigans. my fave was luke x vodka. i personally relate. it's a new pairing !**

 **i wrote this instead of studying for my literature exam. just putting that out there lmao. best way to procrastinate.**

 **until next time! hopefully the wait will be as short as the one for this chapter HAHAHAH**


	8. six: a getaway unplanned

_DIANE STONE_

 _DIANE DIDN'T LOOK IT,_ but she experienced emotions with ten times the intensity of a normal person. When she was giddy, her entire body would bounce, never able to stay in one place for more than a few seconds. When she felt lost, she'd feel the odd echo of walking down an empty road.

All that combined with the knowledge that monsters were on the train to Montauk and the claustrophobia the seats were giving her, she was near catatonic.

"What the fuck, Diane, please calm down," hissed her mother, patting her forehead with another piece of fabric. Diane didn't know or care what it was. Her body felt like it had shrunk in on her brain, and all sensations screamed at her consciousness. The headrest beneath her neck was soaked through with sweat, and so was the leather of the seat beneath her. Discomfort pulsed in her stomach, urging her to dash to the nearest restroom.

She gulped in air, violently twitching to keep calm. She couldn't go to the bathroom. She could be ambushed. She could get locked in. She could die there, her last words said on the toilet as she did her business.

At the thought, a breathy scoff escaped her throat. Another sheen of cold sweat broke out over her nape. Shudders shot through her spine.

"They're here," she hoarsely told her mother. "They're here. I want to get off."

Her mother's lips tightened in frustration. "Where we're going, they can't touch you. And they never will."

"What about you?" Diane wheezed.

"Well, they're not after me, are they?" her mother snapped.

At the rear of the train, a woman with snakes for legs moved towards the door separating her carriage from the next one.

Diane counted. A total of nine carriages were standing between them.

The woman didn't stop. She advanced and advanced- eight, seven, six...

She choked on air, eyes wildly darting around. This was what being prey felt like: eyes on the back of your neck, the predator's breath just a hair away from your ear- Diane shakily got up and grabbed her mother's arm.

"Don't even try asking questions," she muttered. To her credit, Delilah Stone's mouth immediately shut.

They hurried through a couple of carriages before Diane felt a little safer. The monster just hovered on the edge of her awareness.

"I'll go sit in the bathroom," Diane said. "Just in case anyone suspicious comes by, knock four times."

Her mother, understandably terrified, let her go without so much as a weird face.

Diane stepped into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She yanked at the door a few times just to make sure it would hold before she pulled down the toilet seat cover and collapsed on it, burying her face in her hands.

 _Breathe,_ she inwardly chanted. She tried to tell herself that the vision of her legs turning to jelly was just her imagination. _Breathe, breathe, breathe. One, two, three, four..._

For what would be the second to the last time in this journey, the train rolled to a stop.

The travel from Ohio from New York had been the most tiring thing Diane had ever done, which said a lot, considering that she constantly pulled consecutive shifts, both in the day and at night, at her multiple jobs. But for her ADHD-ridden self, sitting in a train for more than half a day beat out 20 hours of cleaning tables and toilets in cafes and convenience stores.

Diane was exhausted, physically, emotionally, and mentally. Whatever destination her mother had been talking about had better been worth it.

With great effort, she pulled herself to stand before the sink. She stared at herself in the mirror, dismayed by the ever-growing bags under her eyes and the sickly paleness of her skin, made even more evident by the pitch-darkness of her unruly hair. She was surprised no one had called the police on her yet; she looked like she was bordering on madness.

Sighing, she turned the faucet on and splashed some cool water on her face in an attempt to get rid of the sticky, oily feeling that had collected on her face after nearly a day on the train. Even as she pulled paper towels of the dispenser, her hands refused to stop shaking, her mind refused to stop wandering.

She dumped the paper towels in the trash can and slumped down on the toilet cover again.

Back when her mother still had a stable job, she'd met regularly with a psychotherapist to help manage her anxiety. "Breathe," she'd been told. "Breathe, and count one to ten. And remember that you cannot control everything, but everything will still be fine. You're overthinking it."

 _I'm certainly not overthinking my possible death,_ she thought bitterly. And she was always breathing, always counting. Counting everything. Money, time, people, work. What other choice did she have?

 _I never really do it right, do I?_ She squinted at the light bulb above her and held her stare for as long as she could. _One, two, three, four., five, six.._

 _Ah, I looked away. One, two, three, four..._

 _One, two three..._

 _One, two..._

"Diane!"

She jolted, shocked back into consciousness by her mother's voice outside the door. Disoriented, she stumbled forward to open the door.

"Mom, what-"

Her mother was not a eight-foot hulking monstrosity of a man. And she did not have one bulging eye in the middle of her forehead.

"Hello, little demigod," the Cyclops grinned. Hyperventilating, she scrambled back, only to be met with the toilet a foot in. She hopped up the toilet tank, pressing herself against the wall, not that it was much further.

The Cyclops snorted a deep, ugly laugh, and moved to make his way in.

She shouldn't have gone to the bathroom. She'd been right. She was really going to say her last words on a toilet. At least it wasn't while doing her business.

Diane squeezed her eyes shut, awaiting her imminent death.

And squeezed her eyes even tighter.

And waited some more.

All she heard were the Cyclops' frustrated grunts and snarls.

She dared open an eye, only to see the monster trying and failing to make himself fit into the entrance of the bathroom.

Diane stared, heart still beating too fast and too hard in her chest, and she couldn't help it—she started laughing.

The Cyclops' attention snapped to her, and though her heart started beating faster and harder, she couldn't stop laughing.

"You won't be laughing when you become my next meal!" it growled. "Just you wait—"

"No, that's my _next_ meal, you big brute," hissed someone outside. A squelching sound resounded, and the Cyclops' face went slack in surprise. A second later, he exploded into golden dust.

In his place stood the woman with snakes for legs that Diane had sensed earlier. Mom jeans concealed her reptilian legs, and her gleaming sword rested on an palm as if it were a ruler.

Diane snorted, her laughter coming out thinner now and her eyes tearing up.

"Well, don'tyou smell atrocious. Bad luck that Cyclops and I have the same unorthodox tastes."

"I'm sorry, I just haven't found the time to take a bath."

The monster—Diane didn't know what her kind was called—smiled and slithered forward.

In a sudden panic, Diane yanked the cover of the toilet and flung it at her face. It shattered upon impact and sent the monster toppling over. Adrenaline roaring in her veins, she leapt from the toilet and landed heavily on the monster's stomach. She ignored the choked sound that came out and started sprinting like crazy back into the carriage.

No one was taking notice of the chaos that was happening right in front of them. Everyone was either asleep, reading something, or engrossed in their laptops. Diane wanted to vomit. She felt like she was going crazy.

She squeezed through the cramped aisle as quickly as she could, trying to find her mother, but when she arrived at their seat, there was nothing. Not their bags, their jackets, or even their trash. Nothing.

She gasped, head spinning, and looked around wildly. She frantically searched the carriage, then her mind.

 _She's gone back to our original carriage._ Diane started running again. She stormed past carriages and past oblivious passengers, trying not to stop and apologize for every single thing she knocked over.

"The train is now approaching Montauk Station. Thank you for riding with Amtrak, and we hope you enjoyed your ride!"

 _I did not!_ she thought, before crashing into a taller woman. They both tumbled to the ground and slid as the train came to a stop.

"Diane?! What the fuck?!"

Diane gasped and nearly sobbed in relief. "Mom!" As fast as she could, she got back on her feet and helped her mother up. ( _Now_ people were taking notice. Wasn't that rather convenient?) "We have to go, now!"

The train doors slid open. Diane grabbed her mother's hand and and barreled over what must have been at least three people to get out of the train. The monster was just right behind them, and Diane was panicking.

Even her mother, a taller and lankier woman, was having trouble keeping up with her pace. "Diane!" she panted, struggling to keep a hold on all their bags. "Diane, what is it?!"

"Monster! Woman, snake legs!" was all she could manage.

"But I don't see her!"

"No one does!" Diane shouted in frustration. They blew past the exit barricades and made straight for the exit. The monster pursued them relentlessly through the crowd, even taking shortcuts to catch up to them.

She was coming from their side, at around four o'clock. Diane's vision was narrowing down on the exit, into the city. They were almost there— almost there—

Fear prickled up the left side of Diane's neck, and on instinct, she pulled her mother with her to the ground. An unnaturally frosty gust of wind ghosted over her skin and when she looked up, the ghastly sockets of a skull stared back at her.

She screamed and scrambled away. People were whispering, looking at her in concern. Her heart pounded. _What if we get arrested for disturbing public peace? That's a thing, right?_

"Mormo," she heard the snake-woman hiss. Diane felt cold. Her mother began to drag her when it was clear that she had no more nerves left.

"Irrelevant _dracaena_ ," the skeleton said coolly. Diane dared a look at the pair. The skeleton was more of a translucent phantasm with a skeleton inside. _My god. My god my god my god my god_ —

"Hey! Skeleton lady! It's a bit early for Halloween costumes, doncha think?!" a random passerby yelled.

 _"What?!"_

By some ordained miracle, they made it onto the streets. Her mother then hailed a taxi so violently Diane thought her arm would pop out of its socket. The driver pulled over, and they dove into the car.

"This address!" her mother yelled. She shoved a crumpled scrap of paper in the driver's face.

"Uh huh," the driver mumbled. He was chill. So chill. "That's, like, in the middle of nowhere, but sure."

"Drive now!" Diane rasped. The driver shrugged and started driving.

She eyed the speedometer. They were only going 70 miles an hour! "Could you hurry up?! Please?!"

She was shaking and sweating all over, down to her cold, cold hands. He eyed her in the rearview mirror.

"Uh huh. So what's your deal?"

In lieu of answering him, Diane peered behind her and started shaking even harder. "Mormo" and "Irrelevant Dracaena" were racing through the streets, a good several hundred meters behind them, like bloodhounds on the loose. They were quite the sight: a ghost floating along the road, and a green-skinned woman slithering alongside traffic.

And of course, everyone else was oblivious.

"Just fucking drive faster, please?!" snapped her mother. The driver finally obliged and stomped on the accelerator a little harder.

Diane sat back down. "How long until we get there?"

"Just 15 more minutes. _No, you dumbass, take the left lane, it's faster!_ "

As her mother continued to yell at the driver, Diane stared stiffly ahead with her hands gripping her thighs, keeping track of how far behind the monsters were. Irrelevant Dracaena was getting stuck between multitudes of cars and pedestrians. She bumped into an old man with a tumor in his left kidney and left him there, in the middle of the crossing. Mormo flew over anything obstructing her way, keeping pace with them. If they slowed down for any reason, the ghost would catch up to them.

Her skin felt like it was shrinking in on itself from the onslaught of sensations and information, but Diane stubbornly kept her mind on the task. She drew in a long breath and closed her eyes.

 _So much life and so much death._

Mormo straddled the line between life and death. Not alive, but not dead either. Just existing and real in this world. So much death surrounded her. So old. So many... _dead children. Mortal and demigod, healthy, and misshapen, her own children_ —

Diane only managed to say "Plastic!" before she opened her eyes and threw up, thankfully in a plastic bag that her mother had been quick enough to produce. She heaved up a second then a third round despite her food for today having only the nutritional equivalent of a single grape.

"She motion sick or something?" the driver asked. He rolled down the windows, and Diane's eyes bugged out. "Fresh air might help."

"Roll it up, please," she choked out.

"Your puke also stinks, you know," the driver said irritably.

Diane's mother gave her a bottle of water, which she gratefully chugged down. To be fair, the fresh air did help, especially now that they were in the woods. She caught a whiff of earth and recent rains, and— was that the sea?

But that also meant rougher and rockier roads. Diane realized just then that their speed had significantly decreased from when they were on the road. _Oh shit,_ she thought, _so that means_ —

Like some well-orchestrated punchline, Mormo's ghastly face poked into the window. "Delicious demigod," her jaws clacked, and Diane screamed. She squashed the plastic bag full of her vomit into the skull. Mormo gave a disgusted howl and tried to scrub it off the bone.

"See how you like tasting children after that!" she screamed out the window. She rolled it back up.

The driver and her mother were rather alarmed.

"Was that a Halloween costume?!" her mother demanded.

"Did you just litter in the woods?!" shouted the driver.

"Drive!" roared Diane, slamming the back of the driver's headrest. "Drive until we reach the destination, and you get your money plus a nice fat tip!"

Their speed seemed to pick up a little. Diane couldn't blame him. She wouldn't want to drive herself to a weird location, too.

"How far?"

"Two or three minutes more."

Mormo drifted behind the vehicle, extremely close but not quite able to touch it. Diane prayed to whatever higher being there was.

"What is this place anyway?" she asked her mother, just to keep her peace of mind.

Her mother stared at her. She suddenly looked ragged and exhausted by the day's events. "Someplace where you'll be safe," she sighed. She placed her forehead in her palm. "I should've brought you here years ago. I didn't know it was this bad."

"But why are these things happening to me? I don't understand."

Her mother averted her gaze as if she couldn't bear to look at Diane anymore. "It's because of your father. He's why you experience things like this."

Her mother continued. "You'll understand what I'm talking about once you get to Camp. There'll be others just like you. So you might—" Her voice became thick, and she cleared her throat. "You might want to stay there, too."

Diane was confused, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. Her mind was too focused on preparing herself for the taxi to come to a stop and consequently, for Mormo to be on them.

She took a deep breath.

"We're here," the driver announced.

The minute he killed the engine, the backglass shattered over her and her mother's heads. Bones buried themselves in her hair and started pulling,

But Diane had been ready. She grabbed Mormo's forearm, and with a grunt, she hurled her over her shoulder onto the stick shift. Mormo landed in a heap of mangled bones and fuzzy white ghost-plasm.

The driver gave a yelp and jumped out of the car. "What the hell is that?!"

Her mother had scrambled out of the car. "Holy shit," she mumbled.

Diane was panting. "That thing, that thing's what's been chasing us the entire time." Her body was still alight with nerves. She turned to her mother. "Where."

Stunned and looking at her with newfound respect, her mother pointed up the crest of the hill at a huge pine tree.

"I'll come back," she promised her mother. "Kick out the ghost and go!"

They didn't need any further prodding. Her mother, clearly the braver one, threw out Mormo and jumped into the passenger's side.

Diane jumped out of the car, grabbing her bag, and started the arduous journey uphill. The grass came up to her hips, and the soil was damp. Behind her, Mormo was starting to re-assemble her bones.

"Demon child!" the ghost spat. "You'll make a good three-course meal!"

"I'm almost as much bone as you are!" shouted Diane. Her foot came in contact with a wet rock that she hadn't seen, and she almost went rolling down the hill.

Hands parting the grass in panic, she stared up at the towering pine tree. Halfway up the hill, she still couldn't see how it would offer her any sanctuary.

But she just had to trust her mother, Diane guessed. She started scrambling up the hill with renewed vigor.

She was so close.

"It's over for you, you pest!" Mormo yelled.

That was when Diane knew she wasn't going to make it.

In a flash, Mormo landed in front of her. Her jaws clacked threateningly, and Diane now saw that her canines were longer than normal.

Mormo scoffed. "Not even going to fight?" her disembodied voice mocked. "Shame. After such a chase, too."

Diane thought about turning around and making a run for it. But she could feel another presence creeping up on them: Irrelevant Dracaena, late to class, but still making a run for it.

She stared at Mormo, terrified. The only way was to get to the pine tree. And the only way to get to the pine tree was—

She tackled Mormo, gritting her teeth as bones jutted into her body when they fell to the ground. They grappled at each other, hard bone against flesh as they struggled to gain control of the fight. Mormo dove straight for her throat, hoping to rip it out, but Diane's hand closed around the vertebra of her neck and yanked her away.

She started shaking Mormo's neck and skull like a maraca. "Let me go!" she screamed.

"Like Hades!" Mormo snarled, and she plunged her skeleton hands into Diane's side.

Blood seeped out, and Diane stared at her wounds with large eyes, not comprehending.

"Oh god— My— " she choked out.

Mormo took the chance to stab Diane's left thigh. More blood spurted. Diane let out a hoarse scream.

"Try running now, little demigod!" she laughed.

Vision clouding with pain, Diane blindly reached for Mormo's upper arm and gave a violent twist.

An anguished scream told her that she'd somehow pulled the arm out of the socket. Blood thrumming in new victory, she scrambled a bit further away and started beating Mormo over the head with her own arm, even if just to disorient her.

"Wha— Stop this! Right now! I—"

Diane took the arm and ran—or more accurately, limped— up the hill as fast as she could. But the closer the pine tree was, the slimier and steeper the ground became. She fell on her hands and knees, but she couldn't stop. She couldn't stop.

Mormo screeched, flying towards her again.

"Yo—"

"I'm sick of this, shut up!" screamed Diane, and she threw her backpack at Mormo. The backpack caught her midair, and Mormo fell back down the hill then rolled further some more.

Diane didn't wait to see if she got back up again. She hauled herself up the remaining slope and arrived at the crest. Pulling herself over to the back of the pine tree, she slumped to the ground.

Her adrenaline had run its course. Nerves and exhaustion now overtook her. Her muscles quivered, and her eyes drooped, and—

Mormo's wail shocked her awake, and she looked up in time to see the one-armed ghost hurtling towards her.

But she never made it. As soon as she reached the pine tree, she slammed against an invisible force and fell, not even two feet from Diane.

Diane could only watch in stunned fatigue as Mormo screamed in fury, banging her fist against the invisible wall and throwing curses too gruesome to repeat at Diane, before finally leaving.

It was over.

Diane's mind was quiet. It was a beautiful night. Even in Ohio's countryside, she'd never seen this many stars. She was alone at the top of his hill, with only the hair on her head, the clothes on her back, and the skeleton arm in her hand. She clutched her bleeding side and thigh, futilely trying to plug the blood.

She needed to get help. But help was so far. The farmhouse at the bottom of the valley was half a mile away, and Diane had no more strength to give.

It was so far. So goddamn far. Who made it so goddamn far?

It was such a stupid thing, but Diane started to cry at the thought. She couldn't do this anymore. It was so goddamn far. Half a mile away. Maybe she could just roll down the hill and save herself the effort.

 _But that could kill you,_ her brain reasoned. Even her inner voice sounded sluggish.

 _I'm going to die_ , she thought miserably. Big, fat tears were still rolling down her cheeks. She slumped over to her good side, unable to keep herself up anymore. _I'm going to die..._

Everything after that was hazes of green grass and the ink-black sky. But then suddenly, she was being moved, being examined.

"Zeus's shit, she looks half-dead."

There were two boys. The other one scooted over and scooped her body up, gentle enough not to bother her any injury. Her eyes rolled back at human warmth, and her eyes slid close.

The last thing she remembered was hearing his voice through his chest. "She weighs like it, too."

author's note

this chapter was. whew. 100% action scenes. i hope i did it ok.


	9. seven: earned reprieve

_NO NAME_

 _FOR A WHILE,_ the pain disappeared. Neon curtains of hot-white pain receded from her consciousness, and she found herself standing in a golden room instead.

The sudden shift in scenery was shocking, and it made her wince. Every surface glinted—the corner of the table ahead of her, the smooth floor, the slender leg of the chair—and everything looked like it was made out of gold. Even the back profile of the man who sat on the chair looked like it had been masterfully sculpted out of pure molten gold then left to solidify.

She flinched when his arm reached out behind him to brace the back of his chair. She'd almost expected him to be a statue. As if sensing her movement, his head snapped around to look at her, golden curls bouncing with the motion.

He was... very pretty. Unbidden, heat rose to her cheeks, and she quickly looked down at her feet.

"Who are you?" he demanded. Oh, even his voice sounded perfect. Her body began to sway at the sound of it, her balance teetering with every second. "I said, who are you?"

When she didn't answer, there was a high squeaking sound of chair against floor. He strode towards her. "Look at me."

But pretty boy or not, she remembered what happened to her when people approached. She flinched and shrank in on herself as he got closer. When his presence was too unbearable, she shuddered and stepped back until the wall met her. Having no other choice, she sank to the ground and curled up into a ball, trembling.

She felt him kneel beside her. She tightened her embrace around herself.

"Why would my son send you to me?" he murmured curiously. His hands settled on her nape, and she flinched. But his touch was gentle and light, even as he lifted her head from its hiding place in her arms.

She tensed, waiting for the brute strength to show itself. They locked eyes, and she felt like she could drown in them. They were so clear and vivid, like the sky under which she had fallen asleep. She felt her muscles go slack under their calmness, and the man smiled.

"That's it. Tell me everything."

And all of a sudden, she was watching all that she had experienced from the moment she'd first woken up. She jolted and buried her head in her arms again, unwilling to relive it.

But he did not move. He watched with intent eyes, hands still cradling her head.

When Enyo's final words resounded in her head, he let go. But she clung to him quickly, not wanting to let go of the one kind gesture she'd been shown. He obliged, opening his arms for her to settle her head against his chest.

"What the Hades is Asclepius doing?" she heard him sigh. He sounded exasperated. He then looked down at her. "You can't talk, can you?"

She did not respond.

He sighed again. "I'd bless you, but you'd be rhyming in quartets for the rest of your life. While that would usually be nice, Enyo might end up doing you in."

She looked up at him questioningly. He looked back at her and snorted.

"We're going to be doing this the long way, aren't we?" he mumbled. He pointed a finger at himself. "I am Apollo. You are..." he trailed off. "My gods, you don't even have a name."

He went silent for a few moments, hand resting on top of her hair.

"... Scarlet. Your name is Scarlet. For your weird hair color."

He pointed at himself again. "I am Apollo." He then pointed at her. "You are Scarlet."

She tilted her head. She pointed at herself. "I am... Scarlet?"

"Yep." He smiled at her again, nearly blinding her with his rows of pearly white teeth. He reached for her hand and clasped it, shaking it. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice... to meet... you..." she repeated, if a little awkwardly. His smile brightened beyond belief, and she felt pleased with herself. Infected by his smile, her own began to grow. "You are... Apollo."

"Yes. You..." He pat her hair. "Your hair is very nice."

She reached for his head of golden curls and pat it, too. "Your hair is very nice. Apollo."

He kept grinning stupidly, and then he squealed. She—Scarlet—jumped in surprise as he swept her up in a tight hug. "You're so cute," he gushed. "I swear... Oh my gods, you're really you're so precious."

Her face heated up, and she buried her face in her hands, embarrassed. His coos turned into delighted laughter.

"Ah, come here, you're so innocent." He ruffled her hair, and she pointedly fixed her hair. "I'll teach you some more stuff."

They spent what felt like eternity sitting across each other on that wonderful, shining golden floor. Apollo taught her new words to say, each one sounding different as they rolled off her tongue. He told her about the blue sky, the rolling green grass, and the things in the sky that came out at certain parts of the day.

"You know the sun?" he said excitedly, his hands very animated. "It's this big round thing in the sky when it's clear and blue and day, but you can't look directly at it. It's too bright. _I drive that._ It's actually takes the form of a cool Maserati Spider so I look cool while driving it."

She frowned. "Maserati Spider?" she asked. "What's that?"

His jaw dropped. "You don't know about designer cars. I forgot about that. You see, it's this—"

Then after that, he had to explain what a car was, and Scarlet frankly only understood that it was a thing on four circles that moved people around very quickly so they didn't have to walk.

But all too soon, the blankets of agony came again and swept over her. Body jolting, she whimpered and reached for Apollo. His arms instantly went around her, and he soothingly rubbed her back.

"You're waking up," he lamented. "I'll see you again, Scarlet. I promise."

She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "No. I do not want go. I do not want wake up." More agony pulsed through her consciousness. She bit back a scream.

"You have to. Stay alive for me. Live."

She began to sob, panic taking over her. Then she began to grow angry. It was so cruel, so sadistic, letting her have this taste of freedom and paradise, only to rip it from her.

"Who wakes me, I kill," she growled. Apollo stiffened then held her at arm's length to look at her.

"Scarlet, listen to me. There is a man, his name is Asclepius. He is a doctor. You can trust him. I know him. Do you understand?"

She seethed, "Then I kill Enyo."

Apollo's blue eyes widened. "No. If you do that, you will not win. You. Will. Die."

" _I am dying already!_ " she roared, tears still flowing. " _Help me!_ "

His face fell. "I already am," he whispered. "I'm sorry. This is all I can do."

He let go of her, and she fell through the golden floor, screaming.

She came to with golden blood and flesh under her fingernails.

Enyo stood at the foot of her bed, her dark eyes wide and the curl of her mouth pleased. The light streaming from the open windows all around landed on her, making her look like the goddess she claimed to be. The wind swept up her white dress, wrapping it around her figure.

"Not even a week, and look what I have made of you," she whispered proudly. "My little warrior."

Enyo's gaze lifted from hers to a figure at Scarlet's right. Scarlet followed and gasped.

Against the railing of the bed next to her, there was a man in a white coat slumped over, breathing hard and staring at her. He was relatively normal-looking bespectacled man. Or he was, save for the three deep gashes that marred his cheek. They looked fresh, and golden blood still streamed out of them in great amounts.

Scarlet stared at her hands.

 _"Who wakes me, I kill."_

She lunged at the man, sending the bed he had been leaning against rolling away. He gave an alarmed shout and tried scrambling away, but she was on him in an instant. Her hands wrapped around his throat and squeezed hard. His eyes went wide behind his spectacles, and his body writhed under her.

She grit her teeth. He was putting up quite a fight. But she bore down all her strength on him throat, and he started spluttering and choking for air.

There was a strange sort of elation in her chest. She started wheezing out laughs and gripped harder. And harder. And—

"Okay, that's enough."

Enyo's hand buried itself in her hair and yanked her head up to meet Enyo's penetrating gaze. Scarlet yelled in pain, her hands leaving the man's throat and gripping at Enyo's wrist.

"You've got _quite_ the anger there, my sweet. Let me take it," Enyo crooned. Her eyes began to glow like someone struck a match behind them. The small flicker soon blossomed into a full ring of fire, and the intensity of it dug straight into Scarlet's mind. "Ah, there it is."

All the fight, all the rage Scarlet had been feeling, had been harboring, had been storing up, it was all suddenly being sucked out of her. She choked on air, unable to break Enyo's gaze despite her body twitching to do so. She grappled for the furious heat that fueled her entire body, but it was like trying to catch the wind. It slipped away from her without a fight.

Enyo let go. She slumped to the floor, trembling and watching Enyo's face go slack and her eyes roll back, drunk on _her_ rage.

"Ahh," Enyo groaned in satisfaction. "That's it. _So much fire._ Really, it's making me blush."

Her head snapped back, and her eyes were once more the blackest black.

The man grunted as he got back on his feet. With shock, Scarlet saw that the gashes on his cheek were already beginning to close all by themselves, as if an unseen hand was stitching them up. Even the bruises around his throat were losing their discoloration.

"Maybe you should start chaining the injured ones up, Enyo. They keep attacking me," he huffed. "It's also for their own health. They might exhaust or re-injure themselves."

"Ah, but where's the fun in that?" Enyo hummed. Her eyes were still on Scarlet.

"You mean you let her attack me?" he fumed. "Whatever, I'm not even surprised."

"If you like, doctor, you can choose to discontinue your services to me."

"Someone has to clean up after your sadistic games, o goddess," he sarcastically said. "And I'm _the god_ of medicine and doctors, for Olympus' sake. This is my whole job."

She smiled. "See, Asclepius. This is why you're the only doctor that I can trust to continue servicing us."

Scarlet jolted. "Asclepius?" she asked.

He turned his gaze on her. "Yes, that's me."

Boldly, she said, "My name is Scarlet." Both of their faces morphed into shock. "Ap—"

"Also, you should stop injuring your people so severely," he hurriedly interrupted, turning to Enyo. "Especially this girl. Her body is still developing. And I thought you said that she didn't remember anything?"

 _Do not speak his name or of anything that happened in your sleep._

She flinched. That was Asclepius' voice. It echoed in her head as if it were hers.

"She doesn't." Enyo leaned into whisper to Asclepius, gaze now entirely focused on Scarlet.

 _Why?_

 _Enyo cannot know. I sent your dreams to him, you see. She wouldn't like that. Also, she says Scarlet is not your name._

 _Apollo said I am Scarlet._

 _Ah._

"Your name is Scarlet, dear?" Enyo asked pleasantly. This was a trap. Scarlet started panicking.

"Scarlet." She grabbed her hair, showing it to them. "Scarlet."

Enyo narrowed her eyes at her. "I see."

Asclepius cleared his throat. "Anyway, she's all well now. Her dislocated shoulder has fully settled back into place, so has her kneecap. Um, she seems to also have fully recuperated from the massive blood loss, and her skin and muscle tissues should be all healed now. There will be scars, though."

"Scars are no concern," Enyo dismissively said. "The more she has, the better it is for her."

"Enyo, please be careful with her. She's just human."

"She has the blood of the gods!" Enyo hissed. "And you will keep her alive as long as I wish." She paused. "Are you developing concern for the patient, Asclepius?"

"Well, I wouldn't be a doctor if I didn't care about my patients, Enyo," he replied drily. "And what I recommend is, as always, in the patient's best interests." She scoffed. "I could swear on the Styx if you'd like, Enyo."

"Styx, schmix," she snarled. "Do you have anymore _recommendations?_ "

"Actually—" He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. "Yes. If you want her to survive."

Enyo's face twisted into an ugly snarl. "I can keep her alive, you arrogant toerag. All I have to do is keep her from dying in the arena."

"If you keep doing that, she _will_ die, but sure." He started writing anyway. "No strenuous physical activity for at least three days. Very light exercise on hour a day. Full meals thrice a day, not just nectar and ambrosia. Actually, keep her away from those—you almost turned her to ash the other day if I recall. Give her at least a little sunlight once a day. Uhh, no sleep deprivation tactics, too." He tore off the note and stuffed it into Enyo's hand. "Alright, I'm out of here."

"Beings like you are the reason humanity has gone soft, Asclepius," she spat at his retreating figure.

He paused at the door. "Uh, okay then. Bye." He exited and shut the door behind them.

Then it was just the two of them. Scarlet averted her gaze from Enyo's, too afraid to see her face.

"Well?!" Enyo demanded. "Get back on the bed!"

Scarlet leapt up onto her bed and buried herself under the blankets.

"Ugh," Enyo scoffed. "Pestilent doctor." She crumpled up the note in her hand and stormed out of the room.

For a while, Scarlet lay there, not knowing what to do. But there suddenly appeared a platter of food and a cup on her bedside table out of thin air, and she blinked.

Then she grinned and reached out to get her hands on what looked like—

Manacles materialized, wrapping and locking themselves around her wrists and ankles, and chains followed, reaching down to the floor and burying themselves in the surface.

She stared at them, then gave a violent tug. The floor did not give.

She slumped back down on the bed, defeated once more. Things had been going well, for once.

Scarlet despondently reached for the platter of food and placed it on her lap. It was cold.

She picked up the first piece and bit into it. It was stale and tough.

She gnawed on the food for a few minutes and swallowed it with some difficulty.

The tears came, and she couldn't stop them.

author's note

*owen wilson voice* wow. update in two days. and apollo makes an appearance. AND OUR NAMELESS NARRATOR FINALLY HAS A NAME! GOODBYE PRONOUNS

sooo : i just really love apollo i guess so he's the first olympian to appear. i really love how his dynamic with scarlet turned out lol

alex parker is next chapter! we get to see Team Kronos brawling around... then some :D


	10. eight: shattered pedestals

_**ALEX PARKER**_

 _ **IF THERE WAS ONE THING ALEX WAS GOOD AT,**_ it was frightening people. Even better if she hated the person.

Good thing she fucking _abhorred_ Alabaster Torrington.

It had felt so good to wipe the calm look off his face from her first strike, and she hadn't stopped coming at him since. She gave him no room to breathe in between the slashes and the parries and the swipes of her sword, constantly switching hands to keep him on his toes. His hair was frazzled from whipping his head around so much in trying to anticipate where her next attack would come from.

Alex had room for laughter. "Yield, Torrington?" she said, jabbing at his left armpit, where his armor was open. He barely managed to dodge it, only able to return with a half-hearted swipe meant to keep her away. Instead, she dared lunge closer, letting the blade glance off her chestplate, and ducked under his arm. She violently pried the sword from his grasp and pointed both her blades at his nape.

Slow clapping echoed from the side of the room. From her place, Alex could see Alabaster's ears color a wonderful shade of red.

"Not bad, Alex," Luke said. "You've gotten past your fear of not doing anything other than dodging and blocking."

She huffed. "There's nothing to fear if my opponent's like _this_." She gave Alabaster a nudge in the back, causing him to stumble forward. His head snapped around, his teeth bared in a snarl, and he looked ready to go for another losing round. "Ooh, little kitty's gonna bite me."

"Watch your mouth, Parker!" he spat. His eerie eyes seemed to glow.

"Both of you, please get along," Luke sighed. "And Alex, go easy on the insults. I taught him, too, you know."

"Obviously not well enough," she snarked. "Besides, he's literally a twig you could step on and snap in half."

"Oh, I'm so sorry I don't have your clearly natural athleticism."

She laughed at him. "Please. Luke told me you got to Camp when you were nine. I've only trained for a year."

"Alex!" Luke snapped. Oh boy, Alabaster really looked like a fire hydrant ready to explode. "We're all on the same team here, do you understand?!"

"Uh huh. Sure, Luke." She smiled and jogged over to the wall to take a swig of her water.

The room must have been a dancing or yoga studio of some sort, seeing as it had an entire wall as a mirror. Through the mirror, Alex watched as Luke whispered something into Alabaster's ear, somehow causing the humiliated flush to fade away. It was replaced with something like grim determination in the set of his mouth.

The initial unease of losing to Alabaster, a fucking stick of a boy, had been vanquished by his clear lack of natural ability in combat. But now it was returning. After all, they still had yet to do their dick-measuring contest in terms of power. From the taste Alex had gotten of his, she could meet her equal in Alabaster Torrington.

Which was a thought she refused to entertain.

Alabaster jogged over to her side to take a drink from his bottle as well. Alex sized him up. From what she'd seen, he didn't have any kind of muscular strength or endurance. But his brain was faster than his body; she'd seen it in his reactions, the smallest of his movements. His reaction time was terrifyingly instantaneous, and he was always thinking and watching his opponent move. What prevented him from winning was the fact that his body couldn't keep up with the actions his mind was formulating and dictating to his weary muscles.

Earlier, her first attack had been a full swipe at his chest. His eyes had widened the instant she raised her sword, and his body had moved—just not fast enough. Then he'd anticipated her next move: her sword jabbing at his midsection. He'd chosen to fall on his ass instead of running the risk of being impaled.

Now, if he thought as fast as Alex suspected, he and his magic could tip entire battles in their favor.

 _He needs concentration and energy to do magic_ , she thought, wiping her mouth. _So my best bet is to startle him and then tire him out._

When break time was over, they got up and faced each other from the opposite ends of the room. "For our safety," Luke announced, "please, for the love of everything that is living, no harm to the property. Are we clear?"

"Luke, the room is wooden. I'm at a disadvantage here," she complained.

"If something catches on fire, we'll stop for a few seconds to put it out," he said tersely. "Got it?"

They both nodded.

"Good. First to yield loses. Go!"

Alex clapped, and balls of fire erupted in a ring around Alabaster's head, close enough for him to get slight burns. He ducked and threw a slim green card at her. Its sharp side glanced off her cheek, and upon contact, industrial-level chains spilled out of the card and wrapped themselves around.

She gasped and tried to squirm out, but the chains held. She almost didn't notice Alabaster flinging another card at her, and she jumped aside, sadly falling to the ground. The card hit the wall, and out came a huge lock. It leapt at the chains and locked itself.

At this point, Alex was panicking on the ground. She probably looked like a worm. Angrily, she slammed her shoulder against the ground, and columns of fire roared too close to Alabaster's hands. He gasped and pulled them back, dropping another card in the process. Alex slammed her shoulder against the ground once more, and a flaming tornado whirled around him with the speed of a race car, blowing smoke and ash into his face.

Alabaster collapsed in a fit of coughing and tried to fan the fire out. In the meantime, Alex breathed fire on her chains to get them to melt or even just to expand. But even her body starting to set itself aflame could not get it to budge.

"Come on, come on," she yelled in frustration. She bucked against the chains. "What kind of material is this bullshit?!"

" _Flamina Venti!_ " Alabaster rasped. A strong gust swept up from the center of the room and rushed at the tornado of fire, crushing it entirely. He continued to cough for a few more seconds, and Alex screamed a curse.

She inhaled as deeply as she could, and when she exhaled, she released a torrent of blue flames at him. He barely managed to blurt out a spell she couldn't hear, and a neon green dome formed over his head. She snarled when she ran out of breath. She took a deep breath and continued her assault.

Alex could see him wincing inside the bubble, holding his hands against the light as if holding it up.

She stopped, glaring at him. Then she had an idea. Shifting so that her palms were on the floor, she willed it to heat it up.

In the corner of the room, she heard Luke yelp and scramble up a chair. Alabaster grit his teeth and mumbled another spell.

The temperature in the room suddenly dropped, and frost began to form on the floor and on her chains. Snow fell out of nowhere, and in a few second, everything was a foggy white.

Alex squinted against the harsh cold. Where the Hades was Alabaster...?

She began radiating pulses of rapid warmth, trying to get the snow to melt. It somewhat worked: the now wet and warped floorboards began to show underneath. She took a deep breath and pushed the heat faster and harder, and—

" _Bellator Car_ —" It was just a whisper, but Alex heard enough.

"TO TARTARUS WITH THAT SPELL!" she roared, and a whip of fire lashed out in Alabaster's direction. To her satisfaction, there was a yelp of surprise and a crash somewhere opposite from where she lay. She smirked. He probably slipped and fell in his own ice, the dumbass.

The heat was pushing against the cold, slowly but surely. Puddles now covered about half of the room, and that was the best Alex could do without burning the room down.

She shuffled so that her back was against the wall, still trying to squirm out of her chains. As she tried to free herself, she burned a trail through the snow across the room where she thought Alabaster was. The smoke combined with the winter fog made seeing things harder, but Alex wasn't an archer without her sharp eyes. She spotted a vague silhouette of Alabaster raising his arms, and that was her only signal.

"Shit!" She sent a fireball hurtling at him just as she heard, " _Ira Mare!_ "

All the water that had resulted from the snow melting rose up like a beautiful curtain. They stood there in the air for a few seconds, then they engulfed Alex's form in an imitation of the infinite oceans. The waves above her thrashed wildly as she tried to fight her way out, but Alabaster's spell had designed it to be a watery coffin: _Wrath of the Seas._ She understood that much Latin.

She tried gasping for her air. Big mistake. Water rushed into her nose and mouth and lungs, and she choked, vision blacking out as her airflow was clogged. Even her chains felt like they were tightening around her under the water pressure. She stupidly swallowed some water and gasped for some more, only to have it lodge in her throat again. If she could've screamed, she would have. All reason was gone, only the instinct to survive remaining.

But there was no surviving, not against this spell. She was going to die drowning _on a ship._ Oh, the irony.

Suddenly, the water paused. It was deathly still for a moment, and Alex struggled to stay conscious.

The water started pulling in the other direction, fleeing Alex's system. The coffin around her splashed onto the floor and became nothing more than a big, wet puddle. Her nose, throat, and mouth were full of air and not water once more, and she gasped in the oxygen, senses returning to her.

"I'd consider that my victory," Alabaster smugly said. He looked down at her. She was able to muster a glare for about a moment before her lungs demanded that she cough out some extra water.

Gods. She'd heard of demigods with powers that would trump hers in a snap of a finger—Percy Jackson, with his near-absolute command over any kind of water, Thalia, with her restored life, who she knew could summon lightning and thunder, and of course, Hecate's children. But her abilities showed up in demigods once in a few centuries, even more special and potent than others—or so she'd foolishly let herself believe.

She bowed her head, coughing out any remaining water in her system as fast as she could. Luke crouched down beside her, but she swatted his hand away.

"I don't want your help!" she panted. Luke silently backed away.

"Training's over," he said lowly.

Alex shakily stood up, extremely aware of the fact that she was dripping water all over the place like some dog. "I'm going to take a shower," she snapped. "I don't wanna get sick."

She stormed away, feeling her humiliation peel back her facade and leaving her so, so exposed.

If she could, she would just skip out on dinner. But her pride wouldn't allow it. Luke and Alabaster would know what it meant. She couldn't give them that satisfaction.

She walked out of her room to the elevator, silently telling it to not test her patience and arrive fast.

But it didn't arrive fast enough for her not to hear two monsters talking as they walked by in the corridor. She hid herself in front of the elevator doors, hoping that they wouldn't smell her, and strained her ears to listen.

"... the Dark Lady's son?"

She jolted. The Dark Lady was another name for Hecate. Which meant...

"He's a scrawny little thing, so I thought they'd be feeding him to us by the end of the week."

"You insult our Lady." _So these are empousai. I heard they were really pretty_ — "Her offspring's powers are unmatched. The Big Three? Ha! They're children falling over themselves in the playground."

"But the Lady only has so much offspring."

"And imagine the destruction they will bring. He is only the beginning; his allegiance to our Lord is a beacon for all other Hecate offspring. They will follow him here, even if they die doing so."

There was confused silence and the stuttering disbelief in Alex's brain. "But how?" the other empousa asked.

The first one laughed. "I have been with the Lady long, and she has revealed her secrets to me. Listen, ever since the birth of Hecate's first children, they have always sought more knowledge and power and dominion over all the others; such is their nature. Bloodshed was only circumvented by Hecate's choosing of her champion, whose authority and power was undeniable. The other children would have no other choice but to kneel before him. So it has been for millennia now; when the champion dies, the next one is born.

"Alabaster Torrington was chosen by Hecate as her strongest a few years ago, a decision we all felt in the marrow of our bones as it happened. With Alabaster Torrington's allegiance, we have gained ourselves a bred army of magic-wielders. They will rally under him, and they will follow him to the ends of the earth without any question."

Alex's brain was short-circuiting. How was it that Alabaster, a sickly-looking boy her age, got to hold this much power? Did he even know?

What was her power in comparison to his? The empousa was right—even the Big Three's children would look like kindergarteners playing hopscotch put next to him.

So what did that make her?

Her head spun.

She refused to be second-best in any way. But the moment Alabaster had woken up under her nagging in Camp Half-Blood, she'd unknowingly brought in her replacement.

She stepped out of her hiding place in front of the elevator, forgetting that she meant to hide from the empousai. The moment she did, she met their gazes as they made their way to the elevator themselves.

"What's up," she greeted first. She hoped that they couldn't see her shaking hands or her wild heartbeat. "You can take the elevator. I forgot to get something from my room."

Confused, the empousai looked at each other. Then the younger-looking one said, "Maybe we can hold it for you?"

Alex shook her head. "Nah. I might take a while."

Before they could say anything else, she turned on her heel and hurried back to her room.

Even her footsteps sounded too loud in her ears. _I won't be second best here. I can't. It's the reason why Luke got me_ — _why I'm still alive until now. I won't_ — _I will not_ —

She threw open the door and leapt for her bed, burying herself under the covers. She wished she could bury herself away from the rest of the world, too.

 _Think, Alex. Think. What do you have that he doesn't? Beat him there and show Luke... Show Luke that_ —

"Oh dear, you look stressed. That's really bad for your skin, you know, stress."

Alex yanked the dagger from underneath her pillow and hurled it at the voice.

But the man at the foot of her bed simply caught it out of the air like it was a rubber ball instead of a knife that would've struck between his eyes.

She stared at him. The white shock of a quiff and the thick aviator sunglasses looked familiar to her. "I know you."

A smile spread on the man's angular features, and a dimple appeared on his left cheek. "You should," he coolly said, handing the dagger hilt-first back to her. She took it, stunned.

He had dark skin like her, a shocking contrast to his hair. As if it was his personal mission to blind everyone around him, his three-piece suit was pure white, adorned by a gold chain that hung from his breast pocket and disappeared into the opposite side of his coat. Even his goddamn dress pants and dress shoes were sparkling white.

A lightbulb switched on in her brain. "Why the hell are you here?!" she hissed. "It's been seven fucking years!"

His aloof smile faded, and his expression settled into something much more serious. "Things are coming to head, Alex Parker. You will soon be plunged into a time of hardship upon hardship, and there will be no rest for you unless you win."

"The inevitable Titanomachy, you mean," she drily said. "Like I didn't already know that."

"The Titanomachy will be the least of your concerns. The war is only part of a much bigger scheme, one that I intend on playing in and winning." He peered at her. "So I must ask you: Do you regret accepting my offer?"

"I was a _child_ ," she venomously said. "What kind of question is that?"

"A question that stands," he replied. "Do you regret accepting my offer? It's a simple question."

"Why do you need to know?"

"Like I said, I intend on winning this giant chess game. I can't do it without you, but the reason I'm partaking in the first place is for everyone's good. So I won't force you if you refuse."

She snorted. "Maybe you should've thought about that when you _forced_ a seven-year-old to make a decision on the spot."

He scowled at her. "I saw my opportunity and took it. It's your turn. It's an opportunity I'm giving you. Up to you if you want to take it or not."

"Opportunity to run away? Or to become your dog?" Alex gripped her dagger. "Stop speaking in riddles."

"It's up to your interpretation," he said flippantly. "Now, please answer my question. Do you regret accepting my offer to make you a fire user?"

She was nothing before she'd accepted that offer.

Alex had run with Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth, pretending as if she had been on the same footing. But when Grover came, she'd been forced to accept what she really was. She wasn't even a demigod—just a distant descendant of some god, tainted with the indelible red target that made monsters come after her, but gifted with none of the abilities and powers like the others. She was as good as an extremely unfortunate mortal.

Their pack, their family was supposed to be four of them. But Grover had so much responsibilty on his shoulders, and she was nothing but deadweight. Even Annabeth, with her fierce intelligence, held her own despite her age.

But then _he_ had come, offering her a way to survive. She'd blazed her way out of the Cyclops' ice room full of rotting corpses, kept the flames alive until the slaughterhouse had been reduced to nothing but ash. She tried to catch up to them, but they'd been too far gone by then.

Now, where was she? Standing again at Luke's side, holding a leash on all the monsters that were part of this forsaken, ragtag army.

Or was she really?

She was nothing before she'd accepted that offer, but how much more than that was she now? Alabaster's arrival was like watching history repeat all over again in front of her eyes, and she was unable to do anything about it.

Was it more cruel to have let her taste and revel in power, only to tear it away a second time? Was she really always just meant to be a wallflower to everyone else, despite her best efforts?

Her mouth twisted into an ugly smirk.

"Maybe so," she scoffed. "Maybe I regret it. But maybe I don't, either."

The man hummed, returning her smirk with one of his own. "Fair enough. I like that answer, Alex Parker."

"Stop calling me by my full name, I don't even know yours," she sneered.

"Oh, honey, I'm disappointed you haven't figured it out yet."

His figure folded into half like he was nothing more than a lengthwise sheet of paper. Over and over, he folded in on himself until he was the thinnest line and then nothing more, leaving Alex alone in her big cruise suite.

 **author's note**

 **when a writer is inspired, motivated and actually has time to write, the grind never stops :)**

 **i love writing alex. she's so dramatic and bitter, and there's lots of places where it stems from.**

 **also shame on luke! family, my ass. he keeps on breaking his promise, and it's making monsters out of all of them s m h**

 **i'm so hyped for next chapter: we're going back to chb!**


	11. nine: unsolicited welcome

**_DIANE STONE_**

 ** _IN HER DREAM,_** hard concrete scratched at her knees. But despite the discomfort, obedience dictated that she stay there, head bowed and mouth shut as the two women talked above her.

"Perhaps we should not be talking about this in front of her, sister. Or at least we use the ancient tongue," the first woman said. Her voice was remarkably light and airy, like someone who spent most of their time laughing.

"If all goes according to plan, Eris, that wouldn't matter at all," the other woman said, her velvety voice taking on an amused tone. "She's agreed to take your essence."

"As always, Enyo, your plans are brilliant."

"I couldn't have done it without you, dear. Making employment impossible for her father— That was simply genius."

"Please, just get it over with!" Diane screamed, but it was not her voice. This voice was heavily accented and higher-pitched than hers. Her hair, which should've been falling over her shoulders, fell only until around her jaw, clouding her peripheral vision with frizzy and tightly coiled curls.

The two women fell silent as her words echoed in the vast marble room. Eris looked down at her from her place on the dais with a wild smile, then kicked her in the jaw.

Pain exploded in the right side of her face, and her teeth having grazed the flesh of her inner cheek, blood dripped out of her mouth. In a flash, Eris was behind her, pulling her head back so that her gleaming black eyes bore into Diane's.

"Who said you could talk?!" Eris sneered. Spittle flew onto Diane's face.

 _What is going on?!_ Diane wanted to scream, but her mouth opened to say instead, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry— Please, just get it over with—"

"Oh, Enyo, all this begging's getting me jumpy and excited!" Eris growled. "She's right. Let's get this over with."

Enyo tilted her head, regarding her. Her bronzed arms lifted from her lap onto the armrests of her throne. It was a beautiful but gruesome throne, with the marble sculpted to make very realistic impressions of still-screaming skulls, hipbones, ribcages, and other bones. "That _is_ my daughter, Eris." (Hold on a second... was that really marble?) "I'm not anticipating half-baked results."

"Don't you trust me?" Eris whined. "You're going soft just because she's your blood."

Diane didn't understand. She didn't know these people—this Enyo was definitely not her mother. So that meant—

"No," Enyo said. _Oh fuck. I'm being possessed. Or am I possessing someone else?_ "I'm afraid you might rush it."

"Oh, I get it. You want my maximum output."

"I don't want _your_ maximum," Enyo sneered. She gestured at Diane. "I want _hers_."

"Got it."

With a rough shove, Diane found herself lying on her belly before being turned over by Eris. She was then arranged so that her limbs were splayed, like a human sacrifice to be slaughtered on an altar. Her voice was coming out in whimpers now, praying to Allah in a foreign tongue.

The prayer elicited giggles from the two women. "Your god has forsaken you," Eris purred, putting her face close to hers. In her right hand, an ornate, serrated dagger materialized, and her eyes refused to look away. " _I'm your god now._ "

She slid the blade on its flat side up to her collarbone then turned it on its serrated edge.

Diane's prayers grew faster and shakier.

Eris's smile broadened as she pushed the blade deeper and deeper, past the skin and breaking it and—

The world dissolved around her just as the first beads of blood were drawn.

The world stayed dark, but Diane's senses told her that other things were materializing around her. The blackness around her dropped from a humid stickiness to a frigid temperature. A stench like rotting meat infiltrated her nostrils, and the incessant buzzing of flies filled her ears. Just as she tried shrinking in on herself, chains she couldn't see grabbed her hands and braced them around a wooden shaft behind her back. They then wrapped her midsection to the wood, lacing themselves together all the way down to the soles of her feet.

" _Help! Help!_ " Her throat felt raw, as if she'd been shouting for hours on end. " _Please! Help me! Help_ —"

There was dampness on her cheeks, but she couldn't wipe it away. Fear that was not Diane's paralyzed her body, leaving her slumped and boneless against the wood.

"Help! Help, please... Have mercy, if you guys are really out there like Luke said, pleasepleaseplease— _Please!_ "

"You called, child?"

A faint globe of light floated before her eyes, giving light to a visage of a dark-skinned man. Despite there being no light, he donned sunglasses.

"Help me." She sounded broken. "Please, just help me. I'll do whatever you want."

The man raised his eyebrow, which was a line of shocking white hair. "You don't know what you're saying, Alex Parker."

A bodily flinch went through Diane at the name, but her voice—again, not her own—insisted, "I'm going to be eaten by a Cyclops, you don't get to tell me that."

"Yes. But you don't know what you're trading your life for."

"Are you going to help me or not?!" she screamed. "Please, I'm fucking begging. You're obviously not human, so _goddammit help me!_ "

The globe of light grew bigger, and the room brightened. "Good observation. You may survive just yet, Alex Parker. Let's see if you can stomach this."

The globe of light continued to expand like a balloon on a never-ending supply of helium. Slowly, the room grew more and more horrifying. On every surface available, there hung rotting, bleeding corpses of humans and animals alike. Many were missing an appendage, some were split in half, both vertically and horizontally, with their internal organs left to hang out. Under Diane's feet, a puddle of blood accumulated. Flies and maggots thrived on the walls, on the ceiling, inside the bodies, even on the floor.

If she'd been this girl, her puke and bile would've joined the blood on the floor. But this girl was made something stronger. She managed to stifle a scream and take in deep breaths in spite of the sickening stench.

The man smiled. "Impressive. Especially for a seven-year-old. Gore, you can stomach. Pain, on the other hand, is another matter. Can you do that?"

Diane glared at him. "I want to _live._ That means not dying, you ridiculous man. I will not end up like them."

"Very well." The globe of light shrank to its original size once more, and it now was as big as a ping-pong ball. It floated closer and closer to her before resting on top of her chest. She gave a startled shout of pain at its heat.

"That's nothing yet. Are you ready?"

"Just... get it over with!"

The light burrowed itself into her chest, and the world burst into agony.

She was screaming when she woke up as if she'd been screaming in her sleep. Her throat was sore, her skin was covered with clammy sweat, and her hair was plastered onto her forehead and neck in the most uncomfortable way. She fell off whatever she'd been sleeping on and hit the floor with a loud _smack!_

Thankfully, the bed hadn't been that high; it seemed to be low, in fact, but high enough to wake her up in a snap. Her eyes shot open to a ring of people standing over her. Their faces were made blurry with sleep, and she rubbed the morning crust in her eyes away.

A blond boy knelt down in front of her, and she scuttled away crab-style. "What the hell?" she shouted deliriously. "Where am I?! Who the hell are you people?!"

A curly-haired brunette smirked before putting his hand out to his side. "See, I told you she'd be crazy when she wakes up. Five drachmas, pay up." The boy beside him, who looked exactly like him, rolled his eyes and gave his brother the middle finger.

"Mr. Stoll, we are a family-friendly camp. I sincerely hope you're not using those kinds of gestures around the children." The older man, who was sitting in a wheelchair, looked like a regular teacher with his stern eyes and bushy beard.

"No, sir." The second boy transferred his gaze onto hers. "Too bad she's already seen it though."

"Pfft, Connor bridal-carried her here, Chiron, she can put up with middle fingers."

"Stolls, shut up," the blond boy snapped. He dared move a little closer, and she backed up against the wall, making herself as small as she could. "Are you okay? Do you remember what happened?"

 _Bridal-carried..._ No one had ever bridal-carried her. Unless...

She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Oh my god," she whispered. "The skeleton arm."

The blond boy seemed confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"The skeleton arm. Give it to me," she said. "Please."

He nodded to a spot beside her. "You mean that one?"

She looked to her right, and there was a deck chair. There were several, lined up in a neat row on the porch of a big bungalow of sorts. She gathered herself and took a peek into the chair.

Sure enough, there it was, laying in all its glory. The bone was smooth to the touch when she picked it up—no cracks, no bumps, no nothing. The joints of the wrist, she noted with wonder, seemed to be magically attached but still free-moving with no ligament or cartilage between them like it was magnetic.

"Holy crap," Diane mumbled, slouching down again. "So it's all real."

The teacher in wheelchair leaned down. "Are you sure you're all right, child? You don't feel like going into shock or denial?"

"I know what I saw," she said. "It's just... a lot to take in. I know when I'm going crazy." She looked up at the four of them. "That was real, wasn't it?"

"Unfortunately," the first clone sighed dramatically. "We truly live like this."

"What's your name?" the teacher asked.

"My name's Diane Stone."

"Miss Stone, there's a lot I need to explain. Come to my office, I will—"

Whatever he meant to say died on his lips. His eyes stayed fixed above her head.

Everyone was staring, too. She followed their gazes upward and blinked.

Above her floated a holographic image of some sort. It was a flower with perfect, round, and bright red petals, and a butterfly was delicately perched on the tip of one of the petals.

"The poppy and the butterfly," she heard the teacher mutter to himself. He bent low at the waist, bowing to her. "Hail Diane Stone, daughter of Thanatos, god of death."

Stunned, the two identical boys followed suit and knelt on one knee. The blond boy, already kneeling, bowed his head as if embarrassed to have been staring at the sign.

At the teacher's declaration, the sign flickered into nothingness. Diane felt a bit disappointed at its disappearance for some reason she couldn't explain. "Uhh, so what just happened?"

The teacher's face was grave when he finally raised it. "Connor, Travis, wait on the deck while I talk to Miss Stone in my office. Will, thank you for all your help. You may return to your cabin now." The blond boy, Will, ducked his head in response and left quickly.

The identical boys, Connor and Travis followed her and the teacher around the porch, which wrapped around a big house. The walls were painted a very pretty baby blue with a white trimming for its window panes.

The view was amazing, too. Before the wide wooden porch she was on, greenery sprawled out for what seemed to be miles. A field of strawberries gleamed a delicious red next to the towering forest, which was split in half by a sparkling creek. A cool breeze drifted through the valley, and she inhaled the scent of earth and sweetness as it passed her. The clouds, tinted by the pink and orange rays of the setting sun, drifted peacefully overhead.

The rolling hills were dotted with buildings and open pavilions all the way until the white-sand beach. Kids in orange shirts—like the one Will had been wearing—milled around the Greek infrastructures like it was normal. Among the endless pillars and gleaming white marble, Diane spotted a beach volleyball court and a small lake that had wooden canoes perched on its shore. And further out, there was a climbing wall, except on top, something red-hot glowed and dripped its way down the stones.

Diane blinked. Was that lava?

She began seeing weirder and weirder things. To the left, she glimpsed a few horses trotting about with riders on the backs. Riders, who were apparently unbothered by the great wings that their steeds were sporting. She looked again and suddenly saw people with hairy legs and hooves walking around. Some of them were with green-skinned people who had bursts of flowers blooming in their hair and clothes, or more accurately, as their hair and clothes.

Diane only felt more confused, but she kept quiet until they reached the front of the house. As she and the teacher stepped inside the house, Connor and Travis remaining outside, she said to the older man, "Whatever you guys gave me, it was hella strong."

He chuckled and left the door slightly ajar. Diane took that as a good sign. "We didn't give you anything, my dear. Though," he added, "after we're done, you might wish we had."

"Is it that bad?" she asked cautiously.

He chuckled again. "Oh dear, you're in for quite the ride."

Silently and solemnly, she stepped out of the front door and shut it behind her. Connor and Travis, who were sitting on the steps, looked over their shoulders in perfect synchronization at the sound.

"Well, you look shell-shocked," one of them cheerfully said. "Don't worry, the worst is yet to come."

"My mother had sex with the god of death and ruined any chance of a normal life for me," she faintly said. "I don't know how to feel about that."

The other Stoll snorted. "Better make up your mind soon. We'll soon be telling you Camp stories. And Clarisse might dunk your head in the nearest toilet. Oh, and I just might be tempted to dye your skin pink just because."

"Connor! Be nice. Start her off with how Luke sold his soul of to the Greek mythological counterpart of Satan."

"Chiron already told me about the war. In, uh, horse form and everything."

"I'd rather debate on how Chiron takes a shit than talk about Luke right now, Travis," mumbled Connor. He stood up from the porch steps and started walking away.

Travis frowned and started following him. "Hey, Connor, wait, gods dammit!" Unsure of what to do, Diane followed as well.

"What?! I'm starting the tour!" Connor said impatiently. They started walking along the creek line, Connor pointing out certain sites and Travis making some additional commentary.

"Those are the strawberry fields."

"That's our fake company! Demeter kids and Mr.D are mainly the ones who help grow them. We make money as Delphi Strawberry Services!"

"Volleyball courts. You can go there in your free time."

"Just so you know, satyrs are the best dudes to play with. They can _jump_ like kangaroos!"

"Travis, I think you want to get hooved in the chest."

"Well— Are you gonna tattle on me?! No!"

"Stables. They house the pegasi. Armory, we have to make a trip there later to get you some armor and a weapon." Diane's eyes grew wide. "Arena, where we hold practice sword and spear fights. Arts and Crafts Center on your right."

"If you're not artsy, too bad. That shit's required. Oh, my fave! That's the climbing wall up ahead, the one with what looks like lava. Now, _that shit's fun_."

"The walls clash together and it is real lava. What Travis forgot to mention is the amphitheater. We hold campfire there every night. We do singalongs and s'mores and all that shit."

Diane didn't know where to look anymore. She was borderline dizzy from swinging her head around so fast, and it wasn't just the places; seeing the satyrs and the dryads and the naiads up close was surreal at best. Everyone who walked by acted like it was so normal—and she couldn't stop staring at the way kids as young as ten were casually carrying what looked like real swords at their sides.

"There's also the lake! You can go rowing with the naiads." Travis let out a dreamy sigh. "They're rather flirty, so if you swing _that_ way—"

"Travis!" Connor snapped.

His brother blinked, then recovered as fast as his shock had come. "Who put fake piss in your bunk today?"

"Ugh!" Connor let out what sounded very much like a snarl, breaking Diane's tense eye contact with a group of four demigods around her age, who hurried by while whispering among themselves. "That's the forest. Don't go in there alone unless you're looking for a gruesome death. Only exceptions are inter-cabin games like Capture the Flag."

"Inter-cabin games?" Diane tilted her head. "What's in the forest anyway?"

"Monsters," answered Travis. Diane's face drained of color. "Oh, don't worry, they're kept in there; they can't actually wander out unless they're looking forward to be driven to horrible infinite insanity by Mr. D. It does add a little spice to our games, though."

"Are you guys all just adrenaline junkies?" Diane nervously laughed out.

"You learn to adapt," Connor said coldly, stopping before a U-shaped collection of buildings. "None of us want to meet your father prematurely."

She stopped in her tracks, slightly embarrassed at his aloofness. "Uh, I-I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I didn't mean to insult—"

He didn't let her finish. He turned on his heel and continued walking without them.

She was left with Travis, who also looked infuriated and embarrassed at his brother's behavior. When he turned to face her, his face smoothed out into a sheepish smile. "He's not normally like this," he said. "Connor's just been in a bad mood lately due to... ahem, recent events."

The question was on her lips, but she hesitated. Pissing off the boy who was going to become her co-counselor wasn't a good idea, especially over something that might be extremely personal.

Travis beat her to it, though. "Chiron told you about the Titan War, right?" She nodded. "Well... How do I put this..." Travis wrung his hands. "Luke was our half-brother, as you might know. All of us really looked up to him. He was like the perfect guy, the older brother we never had or at least wanted. So his betrayal... uh..."

He paused, looking off into the distance. Diane averted her eyes from his face, not ready to deal with any kind of emotional display.

"Uh... anyway. It really affected all of us. A lot of the kids developed trust issues, you see, totally understandable. But Connor and I, we didn't have that kind of luxury, to mope and be emo. Nope, we had to take charge because no one else would do it.

"Connor took it harder than I did, I think, because he's more than Luke than I am, in all honesty. They're both very good at reading people, so Connor kinda feels that he should've seen it coming. Also, the campers' trust rate in the Hermes Cabin has dropped by like, ninety-nine percent." Travis forced out a laugh. "So you see how it is. But that's not all."

He began walking very slowly, and Diane stuck close to him. "Uhm, just to break the sad mood and all." He enumerated the cabins and their respective gods one by one, pointing at each of the buildings as they passed by.

They stopped in front of Cabins 1 and 2 (Zeus and Hera, if Diane remembered correctly), which looked like the hybrids of a bank and a temple—all the gleam and gold of a bank, but the architecture of a temple.

"Recently," Travis continued, "just a little over a week ago, actually, one of our cabin mates turned traitor and went over to their side. He just— In the middle of the night, we suddenly woke up, and he was running off with Luke's right-hand girl. Connor and I chased them all the way to the next state, I think, then we lost them.

"That guy—Alabaster Torrington—had been in our cabin for so long, we didn't think he'd be the first to turn. But Connor said he'd suspected for long time, and it was his fault he didn't do anything about it. I tried, I really tried talking to him, but nothing happened. Some older brother I am," he scoffed.

"My personal angst aside, it just so happened that _tada_! You're the first new arrival ever since the incident, so you're taking the brunt of his teenage anger. I know that nothing I said really excuses Connor's rudeness—he should be nicer to you, actually, given the circumstances—but I hope you just... understand him, I guess."

"It has nothing to do with my parentage?" Diane softly asked, ducking her head.

Travis frowned in thought. "Well, now that you say it, maybe. Alabaster was a son of Hecate, and a pretty damn powerful on at that, too. they even say he's their strongest. This is what Connor said—I hope you don't take offense or anything—but according to him, kids of minor gods are more likely to turn because they're not that recognized in the hierarchy of things."

"And my dad's not an Olympian." Diane slowly nodded. "And it's not like anyone's clamoring for his attention, I guess. He _is_ the god of death."

Travis winced. "Oh gods, it sounds really bad when you say it like that. I'm sorry."

"No, no. it's fine."

"I mean, I thought you should know. The prejudice against kids of minor gods and all."

"I know." After a moment of hesitation, she reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks for trusting me, by the way. I mean, I'm grateful, I guess."

He smiled at her. "Well, Connor wasn't going to do it, was he?" He put an arm around her shoulders, and they began walking towards the Hermes Cabin. "You're a pretty good listener, you know. I sense literally zero judgement from you."

She shrugged. "I've heard worse things." She thought of her mother, screaming curses and insults at her in episodes of her drug-induced hysteria ( _"You're a burden on me don't you know that," "You RUINED my life!" "I want to DIE, DIANE LET ME DIE_ —"), and said, "We're all just children fighting some adults' war, you know. None of us are in a place to judge."

Travis grinned down at her. "Wise words, O Yoda." She snorted.

They climbed up the steps to the Hermes Cabin, and Travis pushed the wooden door open.

Diane slipped out from under Travis's arm, unnerved by the bored stares of her numerous cabin mates. The cabin was clearly filled to the brim. Every available space was taken up by a mattress, and even then, it wasn't enough. Bunk beds meant for one person were being shared by two or three kids at once, and their blankets all seemed too threadbare for the night.

"This is Diane Stone, daughter of Thanatos." Travis's mention of her parent drew hushed whispers from the rest of the cabin, and Diane had to fight down a flinch. She knew how these things worked; she couldn't be seen as a weak doormat. Even if she was. "Play nice, people."

"So, it's true?" a brown-haired boy shouted from the side. "They found you half-dead on the hill?" Travis was about to take a step forward, a furious look on his face, but Diane halted him with her arm. "Couldn't even make it down by herself!"

"Where's Connor?" Travis seethed.

"Here, preparing a sleeping space for our newest princess," a droll voice came from the back. They followed his voice and found him seated against the back of the cabin, slumped up against the wall. Under him was a thin blanket, and a small pillow and something white were in his lap.

The two brothers glared at each other in a silent battle of wills for quite a while, reducing the noise in the cabin to total silence.

Diane had a feeling that this never happened.

After a while, Connor conceded, ducking his head. "Everyone," he said, and immediately, all attention was on him. "All questions. Ask them now. If I hear anymore after this, that means last in the showers for you."

The cabin erupted in noise, and this time, Diane couldn't suppress the need to wrap her arms around herself. Travis's eyes widened in shock, and he turned back to Connor.

But his brother was looking away from him in favor of standing up.

"Is it true you slept throughout the entire day?!"

"Which monster was it? Oh man, we haven't had a dramatic battle on the hill since Jackson—"

"There was something about a skeleton arm? What the Hades is that?"

"Maybe it's a euphemism for something—"

" _The children!_ "

"I just woke up," Diane said, trying to make her voice sound firm. "I was running from a dracaena, and a skeleton named Mormo."

A group of kids in the corner gasped at the name. "Mormo?"

Diane looked at them. They all had light brown hair, though some of them had dyed theirs different colors, and unsettlingly bright green eyes.

"How do we know you're not lying?" one of them asked suspiciously.

Connor made his way through the crowd.

Diane saw now what the white thing in his lap had been. The skeleton arm, the one she'd ripped out of Mormo's shoulder socket, was wrapped in a soft cloth and cradled almost reverently in his arms.

"Your spoil of war, princess," he told her, and he handed it over to her.

Connor turned to the rest of his cabin. "Alright, I think that answers your questions," he announced. A hint of smugness leaked through his words. "Thank you for participating in our Q&A."

"It's going to be dinner soon," Travis cut in. Though more subtle now, he was still giving Connor quite the stink-eye. "So it is sadly now time to start cleaning."

A collective groan arose, and once more, Diane was invisible.

She nearly sagged in relief.

Behind her, Travis grabbed Connor's arm and hissed lowly, "We need to talk."

He received no reply other than a noncommittal noise.

When the conch shell echoed across Camp Half-Blood to signal bedtime, Diane leaned against the wall, staring at her new collection. The Stolls had gotten her the basics from the camp's convenience store and armory: a few clothes, hygiene products (they hadn't even flinched when they took the pads and tampons, Diane was rather taken aback), her own armor and a standard sword, and of course, the skeleton arm.

Even though she'd just woken up a few hours ago, the scrumptious dinner and the day's events had left her exhausted. She could feel her eyes beginning to itch for sleep.

They tiredly wandered to the skeleton arm.

Diane put aside her pack and lay down on her mattress, making herself comfortable against the wooden floor with ease. She'd slept in worse places before.

Still, as she slowly drifted off to sleep, her mind wandered and enumerated all the things she was not going to survive here. Fighting, that was for sure. She'd only stayed alive from Mormo's attacks out of sheer luck. Everything in Camp Half-Blood seemed pretty focused on building the demigods' physical strength, and she understood. They were, after all, being eternally chased by mythological monsters.

She thought back to her dream from earlier in the day.

Not just monsters, it seemed. Perhaps even the gods and the Titans themselves. She just hoped no threats more dangerous than the normal came after her.

That was probably the only way she could survive.

The sleepier she got, the more scattered her thoughts became. Her eyes wandered again to the skeleton arm. What was she supposed to do with it, carry it around like a useless trophy? How could she carry it when she barely managed to lift the standard sword that had been given to her?

Her eyes drifted shut. Her last thought was if bone could be a legitimate material for a sword.

author's note

ahhhhhhh i broke my streak of every other day :((

also, i'm really fucking here for diane's bone weapons. self-indulgent but what can i do : - )

i really love the stolls if you haven't noticed. so apparently it's canon that connor's more intelligent than travis, so i use that to differentiate them i guess. i don't want them to be too similar to each other.


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